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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619390">champagne problems</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_wet_cas_eyes/pseuds/big_wet_cas_eyes'>big_wet_cas_eyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but he's not Dean's therapist!), Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Misunderstandings, Only One Bed, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Past Bela Talbot/Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Mick Davies - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Therapist Castiel (Supernatural)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:41:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_wet_cas_eyes/pseuds/big_wet_cas_eyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you want to talk about it? I could also leave you alone, but you don't really look like you want to be alone." The man pauses for a beat, probably taking in the confusion on Dean's face. "You're upset." He says it casually, like it's a fact. Like he knows Dean.</p>
<p>"Thanks, man, but I don't know you so, uh, yeah, no," Dean says.</p>
<p>The man gives him a small shrug. "Sometimes that makes it easier to talk. I'm happy to listen if you change your mind. Or distract from whatever it is."</p>
<p>Dean thinks about it for a moment. Maybe it would be easier. He does feel like he needs to vent, but he doesn't want to do it with someone who will feel sorry for him. He returns the other man's gaze and nods slightly. "I'm Dean, by the way."</p>
<p>The man smiles and grabs Dean's hand, shaking it firmly. "Castiel."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. midas touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p class="p4">This is not a WIP. The entire thing is written, and I'll be posting chapters as I'm able to edit them. You can expect updates once a week (maybe twice a week if I'm feeling productive)!</p>
<p class="p4"><br/>
This fic was inspired by Taylor Swift's "champagne problems," but the heavy-handed tswift references go away after the first chapter. I initially planned it to be a short meet-cute, which basically would've just been the bulk of the first chapter, but the story had other ideas :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The crowd at the train station is a surprise. It's nearing midnight and Dean had booked a train this late because he thought it would be quiet. He wants quiet. That, and he doesn't want to spend the night in a hotel. He just needs to be home. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks at the people rushing around him, hoping that once he gets on his train that it will be calmer. Maybe he'll his train car will be empty, or at least silent and filled with sleeping people. That would really allow him to fully wallow in self pity. Come to think of it, maybe that would actually be worse than the crowded platform. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He straightens up the duffel bag on his shoulder and cringes when he hears the sound of glass clashing with metal. He's not sure where the metallic sound is coming from, but he knows the glass is from the $200 bottle of champagne he'd shoved into the bag unceremoniously. He wants to just throw it away, but the whole weekend has ended up being tons of money down the drain, so bad memories or not, he'll drink the damn champagne eventually. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He trudges through the terminal trying to figure out what platform he's supposed to board at. He gets lost a few times, but eventually manages to find himself on the right train. He scans the car. All of the seats are in little clusters of four, some occupied, so he slides into an empty set near the door. He hopes nobody will sit with him, but he probably won't get so lucky. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The car is quiet so far, just as he'd hoped. He allows himself to let out the breath he's been holding for the last few hours. His lungs feel like they might give out. The box in his pocket feels heavier than ever.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How in the world had the night gone like this? He never expected that he'd be alone on a train wearing a damn tuxedo with a canvas duffel back thrown over his shoulder at the end of the night. He pulls off his bowtie and shoves it into a side pocket of his bag. He realizes he hasn't even looked at his phone since he booked the train ticket. Sighing deeply, he pulls it out of his pocket and discovers that twelve unread texts are waiting for him. He groans and swipes open one from Sam. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt;&gt;From: Sammy<br/>How'd it go?? Tell us everything!</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The text is accompanied by a photo of his brother and sister-in-law, Eileen, smiling brightly and giving a thumbs up to the camera. He closes out quickly. He reads through the remaining texts, all variations of the same message from a handful of other people. He wishes he hadn't told them all. He takes a deep breath and responds to Sam.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&lt;&lt;To: Sammy<br/>She said no.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No more than twenty seconds later, his phone lights up with Sam's name. He dismisses the call immediately and opens up his texts again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&lt;&lt;To: Sammy<br/>Don't wanna talk about it. Coming home now.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He thinks for a moment before sending another text.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&lt;&lt;To: Sammy<br/>Can you tell everyone so they leave me alone tonight?</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>And maybe forever, </em>he thinks. He's not sure he's ever going to be ready to talk about this. But Sam knows who he told about his plan, so hopefully, they'll just accept it and let him deal with this on his own.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls the box out of his pocket and flips it over in his hands a few times. He's done this a thousand times, feeling the soft velvet, running his thumb along the hinge. This is the first time he's felt a sense of shame while doing it. Well, the second, technically. He opens up the lid and looks at it. The diamond glistens slightly in the poor lighting of the train. He's always loved this ring. It's the ring his dad used to propose to his mom. He always liked watching it sparkle on his mom's finger when he was little. She told him that someday he could have it when he found someone he wanted to marry. He would giggle and tell her he was too young to get married, and she would kiss him on the forehead. When he decided to propose, there was no other ring he wanted to use. He had wished his mom was alive to see him do it, but honestly now he's glad she's not here to witness this mess. He always thought that if she were still around, Mary would have loved Bela. He doesn't think that anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been planning it for weeks. When Bela mentioned the gala, he knew it would be perfect. Bela would be dressed up and put together, "photo-ready" as she always called it, just like he knew she would want to be when getting engaged. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looked beautiful. She wore a simple black floor-length gown with her hair in loose waves. Dean felt like the luckiest guy in the world, not really believing that a girl like that would want to be with someone like him. Turns out he shouldn't have believed it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't know what went wrong, but something was off from the start of the evening. At first, he thought maybe she could sense his nervousness, except that didn't really explain her behavior. She dropped his hand while they were dancing and whisked away across the room. He was left standing alone in the middle of the dance floor and he shuffled his way over to the edge of the room, trying to figure out where she disappeared. She came back fifteen minutes later with a drink and a flimsy excuse that she'd seen an old friend that looked to be leaving. She didn't mention what friend or what they talked about. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Later in the evening, they were up on the landing of a grand, ornate staircase, looking down at the rest of the event. Everything was beautiful, and Bela looked happy as she watched people wind around the dance floor. Dean thought that was his moment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With Bela facing the other way, Dean pulled the ring out of his pocket. He opened the box, got down on one knee, and said her name to get her attention. She turned and looked down at him. She gasped slightly, and Dean felt proud for a moment that he'd truly surprised her. He began to speak, going through the speech he had practiced in the mirror a hundred times, but stopped when the surprise on her face turned into panic. Dean was focused on her, but he could tell that they were garnering some attention from other people milling about. Bela looked back and forth, eyes finally fixing on Dean. She opened her mouth to speak and Dean thought <em>This is it. She's going to say yes. She's just surprised. That's all.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But instead, she asked if he would stand up. He did. She shook her head slightly. He asked her why and she couldn't give him a reason, she just told him she couldn't do this anymore. She walked down the stairs and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Dean speechless and crestfallen on the landing with a small crowd of people looking at him with pity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he left. He hailed a cab, went back to their hotel, and shoved all his shit into his duffel bag. He tried his best to not leave anything behind while also avoiding anything of Bela's. He went online to see if there was a train leaving town tonight and was on his way to the train station right after. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't realize he's crying until he sees a tear hit the ring. He dabs at the wet diamond with his jacket sleeve to dry it off before closing the box and returning it to his pocket. He wishes he could just throw the damn thing in the trash, but it's his mom's and he can't do that. He tries to forget it's there. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve because the damn tears haven't stopped. A few deep breaths, plus another five minutes, and he has the crying under control. He doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he has to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits there silently, staring at his hands for a long time. The train hasn't started moving yet since he arrived so early, which is the downside of booking a train ticket and having nowhere else to go. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't notice the man standing in the aisle facing his section of seats until he clears his throat. "Excuse me, do you mind if I take one of these seats? The other available ones are all near toddlers and young couples, and I do not have the energy for that tonight."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods slightly, not looking up. "Yeah, no problem, man," he mutters, but it must be loud enough for the man to hear him because he slides into the seat diagonally across from him, a flash of a long tan coat the only part of him Dean actually sees. Dean is especially glad now he managed to stop crying. It would be hard to pretend he wasn't crying in this close of quarters. He continues to stare in his lap for a long time, wishing he had something to do. He can't bring himself to pull his phone back out, which has been buzzing pretty consistently since he asked Sam to leave him alone. Apparently, none of his friends know how to listen. He sighs loudly and pulls out his phone. Another seventeen notifications, including three missed calls and a voicemail from Charlie. He quickly turns it off and shoves it into his duffel bag on the seat next to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls his wallet out of his pocket to slide out the little picture he keeps behind his license. It's torn at the top, but it's his favorite picture of Bela. They had stumbled upon a photo booth on Coney Island and decided to take a strip of pictures, smiling and kissing through the clicks of the camera. When the machine printed it out, Bela took one look at the bottom picture and ripped it off, saying it was unflattering. Her head was thrown back in a laugh, a full-body laugh and not the delicate laugh she typically displayed in public. This was a laugh reserved for Dean, and the picture showed him staring at her with a look of pure adoration. He had pocketed the picture instead of throwing it in the nearest trash can like she'd told him to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had been happy, hadn't they? They certainly looked happy and in love in this picture. The photo was only from a few months before. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Would you like to talk about it or would you like a distraction?" The deep voice shocks Dean out of his reverie. His head snaps up in surprise and settles on the face of the man sitting across from his duffel bag. He looks to be Dean's age, maybe a little older. His deep blue eyes are focused so intently on Dean that he feels like this man might actually be staring directly into his brain, into his thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What?" Dean asks eventually after an uncomfortable amount of time and eye contact has passed. His voice comes out at a normal volume, but it's weak enough that Dean definitely won't be able to pretend he's fine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you want to talk about it? I could also leave you alone, but you don't really look like you want to be alone." The man pauses for a beat, probably taking in the confusion on Dean's face. "You're upset." He says it casually, like it's a fact. Like he knows Dean. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks, man, but I don't know you so, uh, yeah, no," Dean says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man gives him a small shrug. "Sometimes that makes it easier to talk. I'm happy to listen if you change your mind. Or distract from whatever it is."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean thinks about it for a moment. Maybe it would be easier. He does feel like he needs to vent, but he doesn't want to do it with someone who will feel sorry for him or say that he deserved better or any of those dumb things people say to comfort you after a breakup that actually feel like an attack on your life choices. He returns the other man's gaze and nods slightly. He reaches his hand out to give the torn picture to the stranger. The man grips it carefully and shifts his gaze down, studying it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"She's very pretty," he says, before looking back up to Dean. He doesn't say anything more, just levels Dean with that firm gaze like he's waiting for Dean to continue. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I…" His throat closes up for a moment, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I asked her to marry me tonight." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man nods, understanding showing on his face. "It didn't go well." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"She said no," Dean says. It comes out quietly. It's the first time he says the words out loud. They taste bitter on his tongue and he shudders slightly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And you didn't see it coming."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I wouldn't have proposed to her if I knew she would walk out on me," Dean replies, the bitterness dripping into his voice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I see." The man reaches his hand out to return the picture to Dean. He takes it and looks at it for a moment before sliding it back into his wallet. He wants to punch the tiny, lovesick Dean from the photo in the face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence stretches a bit too long for Dean's comfort. The guy was probably regretting starting a conversation with him. Dean keeps his eyes on his lap, but he can still feel the other man looking at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I said no to a proposal once." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whatever Dean had been expecting to hear, this is absolutely not it. "Really?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I did. It wasn't right, so I said no." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Why were you even with someone you wouldn't want to marry?" Dean asks. His voice is quiet, but Dean can hear the accusatory tone that slips out. "That's fucked, dude." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone's on their knee." It comes out monotone, without feeling, but he says it with the certainty of someone who has spent plenty of time agonizing over the thought. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean opens his mouth to respond and then closes it again. When Bela didn't give him a reason, he assumed she didn't want to tell him she didn't love him. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe she genuinely didn't know until he pulled the ring out. Maybe they had been as happy as Dean thought they were, but maybe she didn't give him a reason because she couldn't verbalize the reason yet. He opens his mouth again to speak, but all that comes out is, "Oh."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"His name was Mick. We were together for a long time and I had envisioned our life together. We even talked about marriage. But as soon as I saw the ring, I knew it was wrong. I felt it in my gut. I didn't just break his heart; I shattered it. I could see it in his face." He looks at Dean sympathetically, like he sees the same look reflected there. "We didn't speak for years. But he called me a year ago and thanked me. He said that looking back on the relationship, it wasn't right for him either." A small smile crosses his face. "He's married now with a baby on the way. He's happy. Things worked out."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean is sure that his face looks like a mix of fascination and shock. Probably an improvement on the pure depression that was there before. "And what about you? Did things work out for you?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man gives him a warm smile. "In romantic relationships? Not yet, but I know what I want and I think that's worth something. I am very fulfilled in other aspects of my life though."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods slowly. "So you think that I should look at this like it's a good thing." He's sure the uncertainty is apparent in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not saying that, necessarily. I'm just saying that sometimes you'll look back on what you thought was the worst moment of your life and realize it was a turning point. Maybe a turning point that you needed." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "I obviously don't know the specifics of your situation and your relationship, but I hope it will work out for you too. I'm sorry if I overstepped, but given that I've found myself in similar circumstances, I hope I was able to provide some comfort." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean clears his throat. "Yeah, uh. Yeah, it helps. Thanks, man." He tries to return the smile, but he's sure it looks more like a grimace. "It helps to think that maybe she wasn't purposely leading me on. Still hurts like a bitch, though."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, I'm sure it does. Time for a distraction, maybe?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean laughs. It comes out weakly, like he doesn't really mean it. "Yeah, let's see what you got."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They spend the remaining two and half hours on the train with the man telling Dean stories and jokes that actually do manage to distract him. He finds himself with a genuine smile on his face for most of the trip. The guy speaks in the most monotone voice Dean has ever heard, but he's hilarious and has Dean doubled over in laughter more than once. By the time the train pulls into the station, Dean hasn't even noticed how much time has passed. He realizes they never even exchanged names.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, thanks again, man. I really needed that. You made tonight suck a lot less." He smiles and holds his hand out. "I'm Dean, by the way."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man returns his smile and grabs Dean's hand, shaking it firmly. "Castiel. I'm glad I could help. You were fun to chat with." He lets go of Dean's hand and reaches into the briefcase at his side, digging around before coming out with a pen and a small piece of paper. He scribbles something on it and hands the piece of paper to Dean as he stands. "Call me if you ever want to talk, or just to let me know that you're okay. I hope you'll be okay." He smiles as he grabs his bag and disappears out the end of the train car.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles and looks down at the piece of paper. It's a business card with a phone number scrawled on the back in handwriting that might be neat if it hadn't been written so quickly. He turns it over and groans. Yeah, he's not calling this guy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p4">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Dr. Castiel J. Novak, PsyD<br/>Clinical Psychologist</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p4"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chevy door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stepping through the door to his apartment, Dean can't help but feel anything other than relief that he and Bela never moved in together. He never read into that too much; they work on opposite ends of town and it just didn't make sense. And right now, he's grateful for that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's the middle of the night at this point. He was awake enough to drive home, the thought of crashing his beloved car keeping his eyes wide open. But now that he's through the door, all he wants is sleep. He drops his bag by the door, cringing once again as everything inside clashes together, and trudges to his bedroom. He manages to peel the tuxedo off and hang it up before he collapses on his bed in his underwear. He passes out on top of the blankets as soon as his head hits the pillow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wakes up to bright light streaming through the window and an unidentifiable banging sound. He rolls over and reaches over to the nightstand. His hand is unsuccessfully searching, slapping at the surface, until it eventually finds his phone. The screen is black and dead since the charger never made it out of his bag. Looking around the room, he realizes he never put a clock in here, so he has no idea what time it is.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The banging sound gets more insistent. When he hears a muffled <em>Dean!</em>, he realizes someone is banging on the front door. He drags himself out of bed, feeling hungover even though he isn't. He doesn't bother putting on a shirt and answers the door in his boxers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean! Thank god, I was worried," Sam says quickly, pushing his way into the room and knocking Dean off balance. "You weren't answering your phone."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean holds up the phone as an answer. "'s dead," he mumbles when Sam doesn't seem to understand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam's eyes are huge and he looks frantic as he pulls Dean into a tight hug. He always feels like a little kid when Sam hugs him, with the way his brother towers over him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Sam pulls away and looks at Dean with a face full of concern. "Are you okay? What happened? What can I do?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean rubs the back of his neck. "She said no, man. That's all that happened." He lets out a sigh. "She said no and I left." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Can you work it out?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shakes his head. "No. She didn't say much, she didn't say why. But it was pretty clear that that was it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did you tell her about—" Sam begins before Dean holds up a hand and abruptly cuts him off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No," he says firmly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam looks at him for a moment, brow furrowed, but he drops it. "I'm so sorry, Dean." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's fine. I feel… okay about it," he says. "Actually, no, I feel like shit about it. But I talked it through and I think I'll get to being okay. It'll be a while, though."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Who'd you talk to about it? I couldn't find anyone who had heard from you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This dude I sat by on the train. He helped." He smiles slightly, before remembering that the guy was only helping because he thought Dean needed psychological help. The smile falls off his face. "He's a therapist."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam's eyes light up a little. "Dean, are you going back to therapy?" He tries to ignore the giddy tone in his brother's voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sam, no. I just talked to a guy on the train who happened to be a therapist and I'm not going to see him again. You know I can't do therapy. No point in going and lying my ass off."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You could just tell the truth," Sam offers weakly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean glares at him. "You know as well as I do that if I tell the truth, I'll end up in a mental institution."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay…" Sam says with a sigh. He seems willing to let it go, though. "Did you just wake up? Have you eaten?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, yeah, just woke up. I haven't eaten since the tiny passed appetizer things last night." His stomach punctuates the sentence with a loud growl. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam nods in understanding. "Throw on some clothes, I'll take you for a burger."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No energy to argue, Dean grunts his approval and heads off to the bedroom to get dressed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next few weeks are a blur as Dean puts on a brave face and tries to convince everyone around him that he's fine and that they don't need to worry about him. It's not that he's lying; it's just that he wants to process things on his own and the only way to do that is to get people to back off first. He took two weeks to mourn the relationship, drowning his feelings in sugar and alcohol. The one time he tried to go to work during that time, Bobby had all but shoved him out of the garage, demanding he take care of himself and not come back until he was ready. His method of coping probably wasn't what Bobby intended, but he did stay out until he mostly pulled himself together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that he's done with the initial moping, he can focus on settling into his new routine as a single man. He's doing alright. Every once in a while it hits him that he's alone like a punch to the chest and he finds himself unable to breathe, but most of the time he's fine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Five weeks after that night, he wakes up to more text messages than usual.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Charlie<br/>
Hey buddy</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Charlie<br/>
Lunch today?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Charlie<br/>
I've got a two hour block that I can take from 11-1 so whenever you get a break</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Charlie<br/>
Please don't say no. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He groans slightly, mostly at the reminder that he's been avoiding his friends. Maybe he's settling into his new life, but he hasn't exactly done a good job of bringing people into that new life. He doesn't want to talk about this with his friends and family. He can't take the pitying looks or the way they look like they're going to start shit-talking Bela at any moment. He got enough of that the few times he saw Sam and Eileen, despite how hard he tried to avoid the topic. He finds the solitude easier because then he didn't have to talk about it. He did enough talking on the train with Castiel — <em>Dr. Novak, </em>he corrects himself — and he doesn't have it in him to do it again. He's glad he was able to talk to him. It really had helped to get a perspective from someone with zero skin in the game. Someone with no emotional attachment to Dean that still thought that things could be fine in the end.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's too bad that the guy is a damn therapist. It explains why he knew exactly what to say, but Dean doesn't want to go to therapy. He's tried it before and it's not for him. Some things you just have to keep buried. Besides, he doesn't need it. He wakes up every day, showers, goes to work. He's handling things. He's fine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he knows Charlie is worried about him. She's definitely noticed that Dean ignores her texts about his feelings or what happened, and only responds to easier topics like Moondoor or Lord of the Rings. He knows she's worried. If his best friend did the same to him, he'd be worried about her. He sighs and fires off the response. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Charlie<br/>
I can meet you at 11:30. Usual place?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He barely even manages to lock his phone before the response comes back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Charlie<br/>
Yes!!! My treat. Love ya, dude. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles despite himself. He really has missed Charlie the last few weeks and it'll be nice to catch up, as long as she doesn't make him talk about it. But he knows her better than to expect that, which is why he's not surprised that at exactly 11:31 he sits down across from her and she pounces immediately. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Spill." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighs. "Charlie, I'm sure you already talked to Sam. I told him everything that happened," he says. It's true, he did tell Sam everything that happened. And only what happened. The day after, he was like a robot, giving Sam a play-by-play with no mention of the emotions he felt. But Sam didn't press, he knew that Dean needed him not to. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I want to hear it from you," Charlie says, reaching across the table and patting the back of Dean's hand. "How am I supposed to know how you're doing if you won't let me watch your face when you talk about it?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Deep breath. He knew it was coming, anyway. "I proposed to Bela. She said no. I left." Short sentences, no time to get emotional.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're doing alright," she says, not a question.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm… alright," he agrees. "I'm not great, but I actually think I'll get there."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie hums, nodding slightly. "You thought she might say no."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This, Dean was not expecting. "I… <em>what?</em>" he sputters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You thought she might say no. I could tell when you told me about it before you did it. You were looking for validation, you weren't just telling me your plan. You wanted to know if I thought she would say yes."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I never said that," Dean scoffs.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You didn't have to. I know you," she says, giving him a stern look. Dean must look horrified because she quickly reaches out to grab his hand. "Dean, if I thought she would say no, I would have stopped you. I promise I didn't see this coming. But I think deep down… maybe you did?" This time she's actually asking, looking at him with concern and love. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean looks down. He can't take the way she's watching him. "I always thought she was too good for me. Big shot lawyer dating a fucking mechanic who barely managed to get a GED? I should've known," he says, voice quiet.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, you know that there's nothing wrong with being a mechanic. You're great at your job. Not many people can do the things you do."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I just feel like… I don't know. How we met? Her coming in and falling in love with the dude fixing her car? It always felt like some weird fantasy she'd snap herself out of once she realized what was happening." He never let himself say those words out loud before, never let himself think about them too hard or dwell on them. But now that he let himself say them, he knows they're true. He knows that he was always worried about Bela leaving him, but after three years together he thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't. He chances a glance back up at Charlie. She looks sympathetic, no judgment in her eyes. There is a reason she's his best friend. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sorry, Dean," she says. "I wish you had talked to me about it sooner, but I'm glad you seem to be in an okay place now. Sam told me you talked to someone about it? A therapist?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean rolls his eyes. "Uh, kind of," he says, followed by a deep breath. "The guy sitting by me on the train asked me right after it happened if I wanted to talk, I think he could tell I was a mess. I didn't know he was a therapist until he gave me his card as he was leaving."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Have you been back in to see him?" Charlie asks. Why does everyone sound so hopeful when they ask him that?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, no way. Not for me." Charlie opens her mouth, but Dean continues on, not giving her a chance to disagree. "I've tried therapy. I don't want to do it again. I'm handling things on my own." He's said the words in his head enough times that he doesn't even have to think about them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Fine, fine," she says, waving him off. "Have you given any thought into getting back out there?" It was a bad moment for Dean to take a sip of his water because he immediately spits it out all over the table. "Dude! Gross!" Charlie yells.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry, sorry, no, I just — No, I'm not there yet."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It might help remind you what a catch you are, even if you're not ready to get serious with someone." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn't sound as stupid as he expected it to. "That's… not a terrible idea. I'll keep an open mind, okay? I'm not gonna download a dating app or anything, but if I meet someone… maybe?" He's sure he sounds as uncertain as he feels. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How are you gonna meet someone? When was the last time you went anywhere other than work?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, currently I'm at a restaurant, which is not work, plus I've managed to meet someone at work before…" He holds up a hand to cut Charlie's impending interruption. "Okay fine, I'm not going to meet anyone that way, but I'll put some effort in when I'm ready. Just… not yet."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Deal," she says. "Now, food…" she trails off and buries her face in the menu. Dean smiles and looks down at his own as if either of them actually needs to read the menu at a restaurant they've been to a thousand times. Although it wouldn't kill him to branch out from his normal bacon cheeseburger…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The main thing Dean is failing at in his day to day is eating anything with any amount of nutritional value. It's not that he was ever great that that before, but Bela did manage to shove some vegetables down his throat a few times a week. He can't bring himself to cook so he's slowly working his way through the restaurants around downtown for takeout.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bad timing that evening leaves him pacing outside a restaurant after being told his tacos would take another fifteen minutes before they'd be ready for pickup. He tries not to spend too much time alone with his thoughts, preferring to have noise company from music or TV at all times, so it's not exactly a welcome delay. He's trying to keep his thoughts on the tacos so they don't stray toward Bela. He's focused on an image in his brain of a tortilla when a deep voice breaks him out of his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean spins around in surprise. It takes him a moment to place the face in front of him given that it's been over a month since he's seen him. "Castiel. Hey."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Dean," Castiel says as he takes a few steps closer. "I was worried about you when I never heard from you, but I figured I may have overstepped." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, man, I'm good. Not great, but I'm getting there," Dean says in a rush. "Sorry about not calling, I'm just not really interested in therapy."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel fixes him with that look that goes right down into Dean's soul as he cocks his head to the side and squints his eyes. "Therapy?" he asks, confusion apparent in his voice and face before his face switches over to one of wide-eyed understanding. "My business card, right. No, Dean, that wasn't my intent. It would be inappropriate for me to take you on as a client after the personal information of mine we discussed." Shit, apparently he's an idiot. He starts to open his mouth to speak, but Castiel beats him to it. "I was giving you my phone number because I thought you could use a friend. And maybe because I could use a friend too. I enjoyed speaking with you. That's why I wrote my cell phone number on the back of the card. It just happened to be the only paper available."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh," Dean says lamely. "Sorry, dude. I just saw the card and freaked out a little. I liked talking to you too, you made the trip surprisingly fun." He takes a deep breath before letting himself say the next part. "You really helped me. I've thought about what you said a lot, whenever I get lost in my own head. I'm finally starting to believe that maybe better things are waiting for me."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel grins, the smile reaching his eyes. "I am glad to hear that, Dean." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The timer on Dean's phone starts ringing at that moment and he hurries to pull it out of his pocket to silence it. "My food is ready," he says, pointing his thumb back over his shoulder toward the front of the restaurant. "But, uh, if you're still interested in being friends, maybe you could give me your phone number? I think I lost your card." Technically, he ripped up the card and burned it with a lighter when he was drunk one night, but Castiel doesn't need to know that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, Dean." He rattles off his phone number and Dean types it into his phone. He presses the dial button and hangs up when he hears a ringing come from Castiel's pocket. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"There, now if I accidentally stick my head back in my ass, you can call me out on it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel smiles at him and nods. "Enjoy your dinner. Goodbye, Dean," he says before continuing down the sidewalk. Dean shouts out his own "Goodbye!" as Castiel is disappearing around the corner.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The idea of having a new friend sounds nice right now. He feels like he's entering a new phase of his life and to have someone who didn't know him before will hopefully help him to move on. Plus, the guy seems pretty cool. Dean smiles and walks back into the restaurant to grab his food.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day after running into him, Dean still feels a little guilty for misinterpreting Castiel back on the train. But luckily, that guilt is distracting him from thinking about Bela, so it's not all bad. He hopes he can make it up to him and start a real friendship. He isn't sure what it is about this guy, but Dean feels drawn to him. There's something about his energy that speaks to him, like his soul already knows they'll be good friends. He texts him before heading out the door for work. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Castiel<br/>
Hey, man. Sorry again about the misunderstanding. Want to get together for coffee this weekend?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time he takes his lunch break, there's a text from Castiel waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Castiel<br/>
Hello Dean. Not a problem, I should have been more clear. I would be glad to get coffee with you. Are you free Saturday around 2:00?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Castiel<br/>
Yeah dude, that's perfect. You got a preference for where?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They exchange a couple more texts planning it out, eventually agreeing to meet at a small shop downtown near Castiel's apartment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On Saturday, Dean changes his shirt a few more times than he'd care to admit. But he wants to make a better impression on this guy, considering they met when Dean was at such a low point. And putting some effort into his appearance was the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to making a good impression. That's normal.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He steps into the coffee shop and scans the room to see if Castiel beat him there. He spots him at a table near the back, where he's waving at Dean. Dean lifts his hand to wave back and then gestures toward the counter to indicate that he's going to order first. Castiel responds with a nod and lifts his own cup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few minutes later Dean sits across from Castiel, warm cup in hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Dean. It's nice to see you again," he says warmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles at him. "Hey, man." He glances down at the cup in Castiel's hand, <em>Cas</em> written across the top. He gestures to the cup and asks, "Cas?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel looks where Dean is looking and smiles slightly. "Yes. I come here frequently and Meg has tired of writing my full name." He gestures at Dean's cup. "She dislikes writing more than three letters as far as I can tell." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean looks down and frowns when he sees that his cup only says <em>Dea </em>on the side. "Weird," he says. "But <em>Cas</em>… I kinda like it. Castiel is sort of a mouthful." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles in return. "Well, nobody calls me that other than Meg, but feel free to do so. It doesn't bother me."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Cas. </em>He really does like it. It suits him. Dean lets his smile grow wider. "Hey, Cas." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's mouth turns up slightly at the corner. "How have you been, Dean?" He looks like he genuinely cares, eyes wide and questioning like he really wants to know the answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I've been good," Dean lies. It slips out, something he's been accustomed to doing for a long time. "Uh, no, actually. That was a lie. I've been… okay. The first couple of weeks after you and I first met were really hard, but things feel like they're improving every day."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm glad to hear that, Dean. I was concerned about you after our first meeting, obviously."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know I already said it, but you really helped a lot." He takes a sip of his coffee. "The things you said… about your own similar situation? It helped. It made it feel… less personal, I guess? Knowing that maybe she didn't know until then that it was wrong. I was sort of spiraling before you started talking to me."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I could tell. You were… clearly distraught. I figured there was at least a fifty percent chance you would ignore me or stomp off or yell at me, but I wanted to try to help you. I'm glad it was something that I could actually offer some insight on." He's looking at Dean with that intense stare he had on the train again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean laughs at that and Cas immediately looks confused. "Sorry, no, just laughing about the stomping off comment. That sounds like me. I'm sort of surprised I didn't." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Is that so?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, I know you don't know me all that well, but I can be pretty hot-headed. Just sorta always been that way."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Good to know," Cas responds, accompanied by a small head nod. "I like to think of myself as fairly level-headed, but every once in a while something will rub me the wrong way and I'll get angry. I've been told it's quite frightening." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean looks at Cas's face, trying to imagine him angry. Honestly, Dean's pretty sure it would be terrifying if the intense way he stares normally is any indication. "I believe it." Cas responds with the same intense look Dean was just imagining, but this one is filled with curiosity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So, you know what I do for work, obviously." Dean blushes slightly, but lets Cas continue talking. "What do you do?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm a mechanic," he says. "I do a little of everything, but I specialize in classic car restoration. I should show you my baby sometime, I rebuilt her a few years back." He leaves out the fact that he had to rebuild the car because of a car accident that brought him much closer to death than he would have liked. "She's a '67 Chevy Impala. My parents got her before I was born."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas considers this for a moment. "I would like to see." He takes a beat and then adds, "Can we still be friends if I don't have a car? You clearly care about cars and I don't know much about them."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's sure he looks surprised, but he tries to compose himself. "Really? No car?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes. My office is within walking distance of home, and public transport is reasonably reliable here." He looks thoughtful. "Sometimes I think it would be convenient to have one, but if I really need one, I typically can find a friend willing to give me a ride."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, I'll take any excuse to take my baby for a drive, so you just got yourself one more friend to mooch rides off of," Dean says, smiling. There's that feeling again, where he knows they'll be close. It doesn't feel weird to make the offer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you, Dean," he says, returning Dean's smile with his own. "I may take you up on that sometime."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They talk for hours, conversation flowing easily like they've known each other for years. When Cas checks his watch and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head, Dean realizes it's probably time for them to wrap things up. Dean gathers the trash on the table and goes to throw it away, before coming back to say goodbye to Cas who is shrugging on his coat, the same tan trench coat he was wearing when they first met. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I had a nice time today, Dean. You are very interesting to talk to."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, same here, man." Dean hesitates before adding, "Let's do it again? Same time next week?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles in response, a wide smile that reaches his eyes. A smile that Dean's seen a few times today and hopes to see a lot more in the future. "I would like that, yes. I'll see you then." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Awesome. Bye, Cas." Dean looks at the space between them. Giving him a hug feels too familiar, but shaking his hand feels too formal. He's not really sure what to do, so of course, he does the dumbest thing in the world before his brain even registers that he's doing it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He holds up his hand, palm facing Cas. Cas squints and tilts his head, but then realization dawns on him. Cas's lip quirks up into a small, crooked smile. He high-fives Dean, says "goodbye," and walks out of the coffee shop. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter 3 will be up next weekend! I'll be posting about updates on my <a href="https://big-wet-cas-eyes.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you want to hang out there too :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. flannel cure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slightly spoiler-y content warning for this chapter: Dean has something resembling an anxiety attack. If you want to skip past it, stop reading around when Dean spills coffee on himself and scroll down to the first ——— separator (you'll miss a little plot, but the important parts will get mentioned again later on).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the last two months, Saturday afternoons have been Dean's favorite time of the week. Because every Saturday afternoon for the last two months, Dean has met up with Cas for coffee. Being around Cas makes Dean feel happy in a way he doesn't really understand. Two months feels too fast to call Cas his best friend, but they're heading in that direction.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They decided to meet up a little earlier today, with a snowstorm threatening to shut down the city later in the day. Dean didn't want to cancel, but he didn't want to get stuck driving his baby home in a blizzard. He suggested they move their normal time and Cas had easily accepted. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean walks into the coffee shop and lets the scent wash over him. These days whenever he smells coffee, he thinks of Cas. The warm, sweet reminder of happy afternoons. He doesn't need to scan the room to find Cas, who is at their normal table with two cups in front of him. He looks up and smiles when he sees Dean walking over. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, man," Dean says as he leans down and gives him a quick half-hug before taking his seat across the table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Dean," Cas replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What do we have today?" Dean asks as Cas pushes the second cup over to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, Meg said it was a 'surprise' and wouldn't tell me," Cas says. Meg isn't quite a friend, but she occasionally stops by their table to chat when things are slow. She can be fun if a little much. "She insists that you'll like it though," Cas adds, probably in response to Dean's slightly suspicious look.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean glances over at Meg behind the counter. She somehow manages to smirk and look hopeful at the same time. He throws her a wink before he turns his attention back to Cas and his drink. "Well, let's try it then," he says. He reaches for his cup, but he must grab it too hard because the lid pops off, causing the hot liquid to spill all over his hand. "Shit, fuck," he mutters as he shakes off his hand trying to get some of it off. "I'm gonna… napkins…" he says as he stands. He takes a look at Cas whose eyes are wide with concern. "Don't worry, not that hot," he says to reassure him. "Just want to get it cleaned up." Cas nods at him and Dean takes that as his cue that he can walk over to the table by the door that holds the napkins. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has a few in hand, deciding how many more he should grab, when the door to the coffee shop opens. A gush of cold air comes in, followed by an icy feeling that settles into Dean's chest when he hears an unmistakably recognizable laugh. His head snaps up, eyes resting on Bela Talbot herself for the first time in three months. She hasn't spotted him yet, so Dean lets himself look at her. She looks the same. He doesn't know why he expected her not to; it hasn't actually been that long. She looks happy too, which she hadn't been the last time he saw her.She's with a man Dean doesn't know and when he lets his gaze shift down… he sees that they're holding hands. His eyes are still on their hands when Bela notices him and speaks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean. Hello," she says. Her voice sounds formal, the way it always was when she was feeling uncomfortable but didn't want to give it away. At least he's not the only one who doesn't want to be here. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I… hey," he manages to stammer out eventually. Or maybe he just moves his mouth because he doesn't actually hear the words when he says them. The room feels like it's spinning. He feels a little like he's underwater, eyes out of focus and sounds muffled. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He feels a warm hand press against his lower back, grounding him slightly. He can hear Cas's deep voice speaking next to him and Bela's light voice responding. He can almost hear the words, but the meaning doesn't make it to his brain. His eyes haven't moved since they fell onto Bela's hand clasped to another, but the view is blurry now. He feels Cas remove his hand, but moments later he's back and shoving Dean's arms into his jacket. Then, mercifully, Bela is out of his line of sight. He feels cold as Cas pulls him through the door and out onto the sidewalk. Cas's arm is wrapped firmly around his waist and Dean lets himself be led away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Cas pulls Dean through another door, warmth suddenly flooding his body. He hadn't realized he was freezing, but he's grateful for the heat as his hands start to warm up. Dean hears keys jingling and is pulled through another door. Then Cas is pulling his jacket and shoes off and pressing him to sit. Dean feels Cas sit down next to him before he wraps his arms around his body and pulls Dean close. Dean lets himself go limp at the feeling. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's okay… you're okay…" Cas is whispering into Dean's hair. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"She—" Dean chokes out the word. He shakes his head trying to get ahold of himself. "Bela—" It comes out even weaker than his first attempt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know, I know. You don't need to talk. Just try to calm down, I'm right here. You're safe." Dean shifts his head slightly, looking up at Cas's face. His blue eyes are damp and wide with concern, staring intently back at Dean. Dean shoves his face into Cas's chest and wraps his own arms around him. He's aware now that he's crying because of the wet spot he's leaving on Cas's shirt, but he can't really bring himself to care. He lets himself relax into the feeling of Cas stroking the hair on the back of his head and closes his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next thing he knows is that he's wrapped in something soft. It takes him a second to remember where he is and why he fell asleep, but his eyes snap open when he does. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just had a fucking breakdown in front of Cas <em>and </em>Bela. Shit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits up and looks around. He's never been to Cas's apartment before. It's not big, but it's tastefully decorated and it suits him. Dean realizes Cas doesn't actually have a couch either. He's curled up on a small loveseat, which explains the pain in his neck. He turns around and looks into the kitchen, where he sees Cas standing over the stove. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clears his throat before speaking, not sure if his voice is all the way back yet. "Hey," he says quietly, but it's loud enough that Cas spins around.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean! You're awake." He smiles warmly. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you. It seemed like you could use the rest." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I… yeah, you were right. Thanks, man, you didn't have to do all that." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I should get out of your hair before your dinner is ready." He stands and groans at the loud crack he hears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh… about that, Dean," Cas says, sounding hesitant in a way he usually isn't. "I would have woken you before the storm hit, but I sort of fell asleep too." He won't meet Dean's eye. "By the time I woke up… well, the snowstorm was in full force. I really don't think you should drive in this." His eyes flick over behind Dean, and Dean turns to look out the window. Instead of getting a view of downtown, all Dean sees is a swirling white wall. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh. Shit," Dean mutters, turning back to Cas. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, I'm sorry. But you are of course more than welcome to stay here tonight. You can have the bed, I'll sleep out here." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sleep out… what? Dude, I slept on this thing for a couple of hours, and my whole body aches. I can't make you do that in your own home. I'll sleep out here."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, you literally just said that your whole body aches. I'm not going to subject you to that again," he responds firmly. "I've slept out here before. It's really not an issue." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean walks over to the door in the corner of the room that he assumes leads to the bedroom. He peeks in, notes the presence of a king-sized bed, and makes a decision. "Your bed is huge, do you want to just share?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We can if you're comfortable with that," Cas says after a moment. Dean can't read the expression on his face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shrugs. "Gotta be better than that thing, right?" he says, pointing at the loveseat. "Why don't you have a couch?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's just me here. I've never felt like I needed one," he says, turning away to stir whatever is in the pot on the stove. "Plus, this isn't a very large room." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods. "Alright. That makes sense for the lack of couch, but what's with the huge bed then?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas shrugs. "I've been told I sleep 'like a starfish.' I like the extra space."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean decides to let the air quotes go without teasing and leaves it at that. "What's for dinner, chef?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Chicken noodle soup. My mom's recipe. I figured you could use some comfort food, and the weather seemed right for it."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's stomach rumbles in reply. "Thanks, that sounds great." He sinks into a stool at the counter. He places his arms on the counter and groans as he rests his head in his hands, letting the events of the day come back to him. "God, why did that have to happen? I was doing so well."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You still are, Dean. There's nothing wrong with having a strong emotional reaction when you see someone who hurt you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, I guess. I just didn't think I'd see her so soon. I didn't think she'd be happy so soon." He looks up when he feels Cas's eyes on him and sees concern written all over his face. "I kinda hoped I'd be, like, with someone when I saw her again? It's stupid and petty, but I wanted her to see that I could be happy without her. I wanted enough time to find someone new before I saw her." He blushes, knowing full well that he sounds like an idiot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's expression shifts into something unreadable again. "Well… I'm not sure if this will be any consolation or not, but…" He pauses, looking uncomfortable and unsure, which is not something he's used to seeing from Cas. "Never mind, it's not important," he says, quickly turning back around. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, tell me, dude," Dean says. He's way too curious about what is making Cas fidget like that to let it go.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas sighs loudly and faces Dean again. "Okay. It seemed that Bela thought you and I were together. So, you may have managed to do what you wanted and convinced her you were with someone, even though you're not." He pauses before continuing, "I'm not sure how well you conveyed 'happy' at that moment, though." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's glad he wasn't drinking anything when he said it because he would have spit all over the counter. "She… you… <em>what</em>? How?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, when I went over to help you, the way she looked at me… it was the exact same look that was on your face when you realized she was holding hands with the man she was with." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But I'm not… and you're…" Dean isn't really able to complete a thought, let alone a sentence. He's shaking his head and looking down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know, Dean," Cas says. His voice has shifted back into a warm, comforting tone that Dean is familiar with. "I'm just saying what it may have looked like to her. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I should have kept that to myself." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, I asked you to tell me. It's fine. I just… give me a minute." Cas gives him a small nod in reply and turns away, leaving Dean with his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Could Bela have actually thought that they were together? He's never even been interested in men. Bela of all people should know that. But then again… Cas came right to his side as soon as he knew Dean was upset. He put a comforting hand on Dean. Those could easily be interpreted as couple things. Maybe Bela really had thought that and if she did… well, Cas was right, that just meant Dean did get what he wanted. It's nice to consider the possibility that she thought he moved on with someone, even if that someone was a man. Even if it's obvious he's not completely okay yet.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence stretches while Dean is lost in his head. It's not necessarily uncomfortable. They don't really have awkward silences between them. But it's charged with something Dean can't put his finger on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you hungry?" Cas eventually asks, settling into a seat on the other side of the counter. "It's ready." He slides a bowl over and Dean pulls it over to himself carefully. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you," he says before he takes a bite. He hisses slightly when he burns his tongue, but it's good. He didn't know Cas could cook. "I'm… sorry about today. I kinda ruined our coffee date. And I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable that Bela thought we were together." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, you had no control over what happened today. You don't need to apologize. I'm just glad I was there to help calm you down and remove you from the situation." He pauses for a moment to blow on the steaming spoon in front of him. "As for Bela thinking we were together, I wasn't uncomfortable. I could do a lot worse than you." He shrugs and turns his attention back to his dinner.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean stares at Cas, slack-jawed. Cas is focused entirely on his food by now, which leaves Dean to internally spiral on his own again. He could do worse? What did that mean? Cas couldn't actually be into him. If Cas's intent was to distract Dean from thinking about Bela, it worked. He was probably just being nice, giving a sad, broken man an ego boost. Obviously, he knows Cas is gay, but that doesn't mean he likes Dean that way. He's never felt like Cas was interested. But then again, would Dean even know what it looked like when another man shows interest?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of their dinner conversation is mostly small talk, staying away from heavier topics. Dean appreciates it given that his brain is still in a tailspin trying to figure out what Cas meant. He eventually reaches the conclusion that Cas was just trying to make him feel better about himself, and his thoughts settle down. He feels himself release the tension in his shoulders and start to enjoy Cas's company in the easy way he always does. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finish dinner and clean up before settling back into the living room to watch a movie, Dean spread out on the loveseat and Cas in the armchair. It's almost strange being with Cas somewhere other than their coffee shop, but Dean settles in and decides that it's not strange, it's just new. Eventually, Dean is yawning and exhausted, despite the nap. Apparently crying your eyes out will do that to you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'll find you a toothbrush and some sweats," Cas says, clearly having noticed Dean's yawn. Dean smiles appreciatively, and Cas heads off in the direction of the bedroom. He returns with a small pile of things that Dean takes to the bathroom. He pulls on the borrowed clothes, which are a little tighter than he's used to, but he doesn't have the energy to feel self-conscious. He finishes washing up and heads into Cas's bedroom. Cas is sitting on the side of the bed and looks up when Dean enters. Dean swears his eyes linger slightly on his chest where the fabric pulls just a little too much, but he's probably just realizing that Dean absolutely does not fit in this shirt and wishing he lent him a bigger one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clears his throat before looking Dean in the eye. "I typically sleep on this side of the bed," Cas says, gesturing at the right side. "I plugged in an extra phone charger on the other side, though."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks, man, I appreciate this." He shuffles over to his side — not his side, the <em>other side</em> — and slides under the covers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, Dean. I'm going to take a shower, so if you're asleep when I get back, good night."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles and gets under the blankets. It's nice to have someone say good night to him, even if it's just a friend. "Good night." He leans back against the pillows and before he even realizes it, he's sound asleep.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean wakes up with his face pressed against something warm and hard. He opens his eyes slightly to see what it is, but that doesn't help. Whatever it is, Dean has his entire face flattened against it, too close for his eyes to focus properly. He gives his mind a few minutes to catch up. And when it does, he realizes <em>it's Cas</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His face is pressed to Cas's chest. It feels like Cas's head is on top of his own, the warm breath on his hair giving it away. His own arms are wrapped around Cas's stomach, and one of Cas's hands is firmly on his shoulder. Cas's other hand is on the back of his head, fingers in his hair. Their legs are completely tangled up in each other.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean isn't even sure how they got like this. He hasn't slept with another person in a while, and he can't even remember the last time he shared a bed with someone he wasn't dating. His body clearly got confused by the presence of another person and gravitated toward them. The way they're tangled together makes it seem like they both had to be involved in this end result though. Maybe Dean initiated it, but Cas must have gone along with it, awake or not.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean considers briefly if he can untangle himself without waking Cas. They don't both need to wake up with the confusion of why they're wrapped around their best friend. But the contact and the warmth feel nice and Dean can't even bring himself to consider that he should feel weird about that. Plus, with the way they're wrapped together, Dean is pretty sure Cas would wake up immediately if he tried to move away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean has never cuddled with another man before. Always with women, always the big spoon, always the one making the other person feel safe. This feels <em>really </em>nice. Cas's strong presence against him is entirely new and he loves it. He feels cared for and safe. Sure, this was an accident, but Dean almost wishes it wasn't. Because if it wasn't an accident, Dean could suggest they do it again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As it stands now, though, it was an accident. And there's a good chance that when Cas wakes up, he'll panic and push Dean off of him before kicking him out of his bed and his home. So Dean just lets himself enjoy it while it lasts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dozes a little, but is awake when Cas starts to stir. Dean stiffens slightly, not sure how he'll react. The hand on Dean's shoulder moves slowly down his arm before stopping abruptly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean?" Cas says, voice laced with sleep. "Is that… what?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's face is still pressed right up to Cas's chest. "Yeah, hey," he says, somewhat muffled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Cas says quickly. "Let me just…" he trails off while he starts shifting his limbs. He doesn't make much progress, realizing like Dean had that they're completely intertwined. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hold on, I'll…" Dean mutters, pushing himself a little closer toward the edge of the bed. It's enough space that they're able to separate their legs and arms with some effort. Dean's embarrassed now, but he glances up at Cas anyway. His cheeks are bright red, like Dean's own probably are. His hair is a mess, more of a mess than usual which is really saying something for him. His eyes aren't as bright as usual, and Dean is getting the impression that he's not a morning person. He probably should've guessed that based on the guy's caffeine intake; he has at least three cups of coffee every time they see each other. Dean shivers slightly at the loss of contact now that Cas is on the other side of the bed. Cas's side of the bed ended up with all the blankets and the air is frigid. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm really sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to." Cas lets it all out in one breath. "I really hope you aren't uncomfortable, I promise this was not my intent."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, dude, calm down. Given how hard it was to get out of… that… I think it's safe to say we're both at least partially responsible. Besides, it was my idea that we share the bed." Cas is watching him carefully but gives him a tiny nod. "I'm not uncomfortable. Plus, you're pretty warm and your apartment is fucking cold." He shivers again, proving his point.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I tend to keep the heat very low since I like to use a lot of blankets. It didn't occur to me to change that. It does probably explain the cuddling though." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean chuckles. He's glad Cas isn't uncomfortable, although he'd probably be pushing his luck to shift back over into his arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's been told he's too intense, that he stares too much, that he listens too closely. The things that make him good at his job translate poorly when it comes to making close friendships, apparently.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That's exactly why Castiel feels so drawn to Dean. Dean, who reluctantly opened up to Castiel on what was probably one of the worst nights of his life. Unfortunately, his very nature probably contributed to the misunderstanding that occurred between them. But now, they've moved past it. Dean has quickly become one of Castiel's closest friends. He doesn't seem to be intimidated by the intensity. He doesn't seem to be uncomfortable with the staring. He seems to enjoy Castiel's willingness and desire to listen. It's become a friendship where Castiel doesn't feel like he needs to worry about hiding aspects of who he is and how he is. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the one thing that stands in the way of their friendship is the fact that Castiel is slowly but surely falling in love with Dean Winchester. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn't mean for it to happen. Really, he didn't. But Saturday after Saturday of listening to Dean talk about his life and his family and his passions… it got to him. That combined with the fact that Dean is so handsome that it takes everything in Castiel to keep his jaw from dropping every time he sees Dean walk through the door of that coffee shop… it's too much sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The final nail in the coffin was sharing a bed with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had dreamed about waking up with Dean in his arms, more times than he wanted to admit to even himself. Waking up tangled in each other had felt so <em>good</em> until Castiel realized it was a mistake. He knew it was stupid before he even got in that bed, but he didn't know how to say no without giving anything away. He came back from his shower to see Dean curled around a pillow, asleep in <em>his bed,</em> and his heart ached. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows he has no chance with Dean. For starters, Dean is straight. He has never given any indication that he is anything other than straight. Then, there is the fact that Dean recently had his heart ripped out of his chest by someone he loved. Castiel had thought that Dean was in a good place, that maybe he was ready to move on. Not with Castiel, but in general. But then yesterday, Bela had walked into that coffee shop — <em>their</em> coffee shop — and Dean looked like the world was ending. He recognized her from the photo Dean had shown him the night they met. She didn't have the kind of face you just forgot. She was stunning in the photo and somehow even more beautiful in person. And when Dean had spotted her holding hands with someone else, he looked absolutely devastated. Castiel hadn't even been thinking when he went over to Dean; he just needed to help. And when he put his hand on Dean… Bela looked at him with that same horrified look Dean had. Like she couldn't believe Dean had moved on so quickly. And the part that really stuck out to him… Bela didn't look surprised, just sad. She didn't look confused as to why Dean had moved on with a man. He wishes he hadn't mentioned Bela's reaction to Dean, but his brain was still so focused on her lack of surprise that it slipped out with the slightest push from Dean. He can't stop thinking about that look on her face. If someone Dean dated for years thought it was possible that Dean would want to be with a man… maybe it was. Maybe Castiel has a chance.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But that's not what Dean needs right now. Dean needs a friend. And Castiel loves being Dean's friend. He just… can't share a bed with him again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had breakfast together and it had been so <em>domestic</em>. The kind of easy, relaxed morning Castiel hasn't had with another person in a long time. Not since Mick, and it's been years since they broke up. He's missed it. He hadn't realized how much he craved that type of interaction with Dean before, but now… now he's fucked. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now Dean is in Castiel's bedroom, changing back into his own clothes. Castiel is doing everything he can to not think about the fact that Dean Winchester is naked in his bedroom. He keeps his focus on the pan he's scrubbing, even though it's already clean. When Dean emerges, Castiel realizes that he hasn't actually gotten anything else washed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, man, I think I'm gonna get going now," Dean says, voice still sounding tired despite the two cups of coffee he had with breakfast. Castiel chances a glance at him, trying to keep his face clear of anything that would make Dean uncomfortable. Because for the last few weeks, even just looking at Dean takes his breath away. He doesn't look as put together as usual, with his hair a little messy, his shirt rumpled from a night on the floor, and his face unshaven. He still looks incredible.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Makes sense, the roads should be clear by now," Castiel says, plastering a smile on his face. "I'll help you gather your things."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Just need to find my boots, I think. Impromptu sleepover means no overnight bag." He smirks at Castiel. Castiel's insides melt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Right, yes," he mutters, walking toward the door anyway. He watches as Dean pulls on his boots and his jacket. This is the longest amount of time they've ever spent together, but Castiel still wants more. He's sorry to see him go. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ready to head out in the cold, Dean faces Castiel. His face has changed; he looks serious, and maybe a little nervous. Castiel tilts his head in question. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean takes a deep breath before speaking. "Cas…" He pauses and looks up into Castiel's eyes. "Thank you for… everything. Taking care of me. You're a really good friend." The word<em> friend</em> hits Castiel in the gut like a punch. "I know we haven't known each other all that long, but… you're one of my best friends. I don't know how many people would have been able to figure out exactly what I needed yesterday, but you did. I'm lucky to have you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" He's sure his voice is dripping with emotion. He tries to reign it in. "Of course. I'm always happy to help you. Anything you need." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles at him and steps forward. He holds out his arms and gives him a questioning look. Castiel gives a small nod and steps forward, letting Dean envelop him in a hug. They've hugged a few times, not counting Castiel holding Dean on the couch yesterday or Castiel holding Dean all night. This is different though. Usually it's a quick half-hug out in public. This time they're closer, they're holding tighter, and there's more feeling. It feels entirely too good. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean breaks the hug before Castiel is ready, but he smiles at him anyway. "Drive safe, Dean."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Always do," Dean says with a wink before he steps out into the hall. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel lets himself fall back against the door and slides down to the floor. He puts his head in his hands and exhales loudly, trying to control his rapid heartbeat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean needs him to be his friend and Castiel is just going to have to figure out how to be okay with that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a while, he finally pulls himself off the ground and goes back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the abandoned breakfast dishes. He only gets through half of them before his phone buzzes, </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>Thank you again Cas</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>I'm glad I met you on that train</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The way Dean talks sometimes made it really hard for Castiel to remember himself. Remember the circumstances of their relationship. Their friendship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Dean<br/>Of course, Dean. I'm very glad to have met you as well.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">——— </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel makes it halfway through dinner with his brother before he picks up that something is off. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Cassie, what's going on with you?" Gabriel asks, a fry hanging out of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing is 'wrong with me,' Gabriel," Castiel says. His air quotes get an eye roll, which is not unusual.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, sure, and I'm not gonna finish these fries," he says sarcastically, gesturing at his mostly empty plate. "Spill. You're thinking about something. Or someone." He waggles an eyebrow dramatically. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not," Castiel says firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel chuckles in response. "That's your lying voice. This about your new friend? Dan?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"His name is Dean," Castiel says before thinking. Gabriel grins widely, and Castiel realizes he fell into a trap. He's mentioned Dean a few times and Gabriel knows about their weekly outings for coffee, but he doesn’t know much else about the man.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So, it is about him. You in love?" He's still speaking in his usual smarmy voice, but there's a softness there that you'd only recognize if you knew Gabriel well, which Castiel does. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not in love," he says. "And even if I was… he's straight and recently got broken up with when he was down on one knee."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Down on one knee like…" Gabriel trails off, eyebrow raised. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel rolls his eyes. "He was proposing, Gabriel. He was proposing to his girlfriend and she said no. I met him the same night," Castiel says in one breath. "Even if I was interested in him that way, we didn't exactly meet under the right circumstances for romance."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So what I'm hearing," Gabriel begins, shoving a few more fries in his mouth and talking around them, "is that you're in love with the guy, but he's not in love with you because his sad little straight heart is broken."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel sighs loudly. "I'm not in love with him. Maybe there's some… feelings, but it's not going to turn into anything."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You sure he's straight?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel opens his mouth to say <em>yes</em>, but closes it again. Because he's not sure anymore. "I don't know," he answers lamely. "He probably is." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel nods slowly. "When was the last time you saw him?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This morning," Castiel says. He hesitates before adding, "He slept at my apartment last night."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Where? I've seen your— <em>no.</em>" Gabriel's eyes pop wide open. "You slept together? And you still think he's straight?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We didn't <em>sleep</em> <em>together</em>. We just slept in the same bed," Castiel says, shrugging lightly and hoping to convey that it didn't mean anything. Which it didn't. "We didn't plan for it. He just got stuck there with the storm."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, well. Did you snuggle?" Gabriel asks, popping the last fries into his mouth. Castiel's brain flashes back to waking up with Dean pressed against him. His blush clearly gives him away. "Thought so. What it sounds like to me, is that Dean-o isn't as straight as you think he is." He reaches across the table and steals a few of Castiel's fries.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Even if he isn't straight, that doesn't mean he's interested in me. Or anything, for that matter. People don't get over breakups like that so easily."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel shrugs. "You did." He's referring to Castiel's breakup with Mick, which admittedly, he did get over quickly. "You've said it yourself: it's not always about how long the relationship is. It's about the quality of it. The circumstances of the breakup. People can be ready to move on at any time, and it's nobody's job to guess what that is for them. If you like him, give him the information. He can do what he wants with it when he's ready."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel thinks about that for a moment. Leave it to his brother to throw his words right back at him and make a point he can't argue with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he isn't ready to tell Dean about his feelings, whatever those feelings are. Because Dean is his friend and he's not ready to ruin a good thing. Especially because he has no real indication from Dean that he'd actually be interested, despite what Gabriel thinks. Castiel isn't sure that a man like Dean could ever want someone like him as more than a friend.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. hometown skeptics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel walks into his apartment Friday night exhausted from his day. He hasn't had a chance to breathe since he walked into work that morning. Not to mention that it's Friday, his weekly coffee meetup with Dean is tomorrow, and he hasn't heard from Dean since the few text messages after he left his apartment last week.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Dean aren't really texting friends. They occasionally send a few texts if one of them is running late, or to figure out coffee orders so whoever arrives first can order, but they don't really talk during the week. So it really isn't weird that Castiel hasn't heard from Dean. It just feels wrong after what happened when they last saw each other. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel desperately wants to know how Dean is doing after the incident last Saturday, but he also knows Dean well enough by now to know that Dean has to process things on his own, in his own time. He'll open up when he's ready. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He really hopes he didn't scare Dean off. He's just about to text him and check that they're still on for tomorrow when his phone buzzes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>You okay with a change of plans for our coffee date?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel tries not to look too long at the word <em>date</em>. That's just how Dean talks. It's not a date and never has been. He takes a deep breath and starts to tap out a reply, hoping Dean isn't trying to cancel on him, when another text rolls in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>And are you free tomorrow night?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Dean<br/>I'm free. What did you have in mind?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>Pizza and movie night. I'll pick you up at 6. Pack a toothbrush. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Dean<br/>Why do I need a toothbrush for movie night?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>You're sleeping over. Beer and pizza. And don't worry, I'll take the (normal sized) couch.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>Is that cool with you?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Dean<br/>Yes. I will see you tomorrow. :)</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel smiles. Last week had been the first time they spent time together outside the coffee shop. It will be nice to do it under better circumstances.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Six o'clock the next day rolls around and Castiel is standing outside his building. His messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, toothbrush and sweatpants in tow. He had enough trouble looking at Dean wearing his clothes; he doesn't need to know what wearing Dean's clothes feels like. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Luckily, Dean pulls up before Castiel gets too cold. It's not snowing this week, but the temperature has been dropping steadily for the last few days. He smiles at the sight of Dean's car. He's never ridden in it, but the car is a frequent topic of conversation. He slides into the front seat, smiling instinctively when he sees the bright smile on Dean's face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Dean," he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey," Dean replies. "You ready for this?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I hardly think pizza and movies will require too much preparation," he says with a small eye roll.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There's a glint of something mischievous in Dean's eyes when he responds. "Not the way I do it." He winks and pulls away from the curb, leaving Castiel temporarily speechless. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel is a little surprised at how tidy Dean's apartment is. He walks around slowly, looking at the pictures scattering the bookshelves. Most of them are of Dean with a tall man he assumes is Dean's brother, Sam. He's looking at a picture of Dean standing between Sam and a pretty woman in a wedding dress when Dean clears his throat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's from Sam and Eileen's wedding. I officiated," Dean says from right behind him, making Castiel jump slightly. "You ready for pizza?" he asks as he turns and walks into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel keeps his eyes on the photo he's looking at while he replies. "Sure, where do you like to order from?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns his attention fully back to Dean when he hears him scoffing. "It's like you don't know me at all, Cas." Dean's bending down and pulling things from the fridge. When he drops a handful of ingredients onto the counter, he smirks and points at a ball of dough. "Pizza party isn't a pizza party without throwing some dough around."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's not true." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sure it is!" Dean says in a teasing tone. "Now get over here and help me."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know how to make pizza, Dean."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's easy. I'll help you," Dean says with a smile, gesturing for Castiel to join him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It turns out Dean is a good teacher, mostly. They eventually manage to get two small pizzas ready for the oven with only one major flour accident. Dean had laughed hysterically when he looked over and saw Castiel covered in flour after dropping his dough ball into a pile of it. Once they're done with everything else, Dean all but shoves him toward the bedroom so Castiel can find a t-shirt to borrow while Dean gets the pizzas in the oven. He tugs on a worn Led Zeppelin shirt he found in the top drawer and pulls at the hem, looking down at it. As expected, wearing Dean's clothes is doing things to him that he doesn't want to think about. Honestly, if Dean weren't straight, this would have been the best date he's ever had. Lots of close contact and joking and smiling at each other. He takes a peek in the mirror in Dean's room, grimacing at the flour clinging to his hair. He heads into the bathroom to try to take care of it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he gets back into the main part of the apartment, Dean waves him over to the couch where he's messing with the remote. His eyes linger slightly on Castiel's damp hair. He probably missed some flour. "I'm thinking Star Wars. What do you think?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Which one?" Castiel asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I have a terrible idea, tell me what you think of it," Dean says, grinning, "We start with Episode One." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel laughs, mostly at how excited Dean looks. "Sure, let's do it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean gets the movie set up so they can start after dinner. They wait for the pizzas to finish up and eat at the counter. It still feels like a date. The butterflies in Castiel's stomach refuse to calm down. They just get more aggressive throughout the evening because Dean sits a little closer to him on the couch than he expected. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They're halfway through Episode Two when Castiel jumps slightly when he feels Dean's head fall to his shoulder. He holds in the gasp that threatens to leave his mouth at the sight as to not alert Dean to how surprised he is, but Dean is snoring lightly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The movie eventually ends and Castiel reaches over Dean for the remote to turn the TV off. The movement jostles him slightly, but he just settles in deeper to Castiel's shoulder. He nudges Dean slightly, trying to wake him without startling him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, he stirs a bit and opens his eyes. He looks up at Castiel, smiles, and slowly returns to a sitting position. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I think it's time for sleep, Dean," Castiel says gently. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean yawns. "Yeah, maybe. You take the bed." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, no. You should have your bed," Castiel argues. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm gonna be honest with you, Cas. I do not have the energy to go to bed, so I'm just gonna curl up here and sleep right now. I'd probably do that even if you weren't here."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"If you're sure…" he responds skeptically. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean pokes him in the side, and Castiel gets the hint to stand. "I'm sure. Good night, Cas." He smiles a little, but it turns into another yawn. Dean curls up on the couch, pulling a blanket from the back and snuggling in. He's asleep by the time Castiel finishes washing up. He takes the moment to look at him, really look at him, like he always wants to do.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He really is stunning. The long eyelashes. The freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. His jawline. He knows he's even more beautiful with his eyes open. Dean's eyes are so incredible, but not just the color. The beauty is in their expressiveness. Castiel knows that Dean feels things deeply, and you can see that in his eyes. He noticed it the very first time they met when he saw incredible pain there. He saw the pain again last week when Dean spotted Bela. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But mostly what Castiel sees in Dean's eyes is joy. Joy when he talks about his family. Joy when he talks about his work. Joy when he talks about his car. And most importantly, joy when he listens to Castiel talk about his own life. The attention he gives, and the fact that he actually cares about what he's hearing, are visible right there in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tears himself away before he watches too long and goes to Dean's bedroom. Settling into someone else's bed feels strange, especially when you're there alone. Especially when that bed smells like your friend that you're harboring a secret crush on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He falls asleep and dreams of green eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their weekly get-togethers have now officially shifted from Saturday afternoon coffee to Saturday movie nights. They've been slowly working their way through all of Dean's favorite movies, and some movies that he wants to hate-watch with Cas. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On a Sunday morning a month and a half after their first sleepover, Dean and Cas are snuggled into opposite corners of the couch, feet not quite touching, drinking coffee and chatting easily. It's always so easy with Cas. Dean can just be himself, even if that means not actually talking until they're both halfway through their coffee. They both jump a little when someone knocks on the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What the… <em>fuck</em>," Dean says, splashing some coffee out of his mug in his rush to get to the door. He pulls it open and a mess of red hair shoves in past him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, dude, ready for brunch?" Charlie says. Her eyebrow is raised, no doubt taking in the fact that Dean is still in his pajamas. Her eyes eventually settle on Cas, still under a blanket on the couch. She turns back to Dean. "Or not?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm so sorry, I totally forgot. Let me just get dressed…" he trails off, looking over to Cas, who looks slightly uncomfortable. "Cas, this is Charlie. Charlie, Cas. I gotta drop Cas off at his place before we go… unless you wanna come?" He looks back over to Cas, trying not to look too hopeful. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's okay, Dean. I need to get home. I was about to start getting ready to leave anyway." He gets up off the couch and walks over to Charlie. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Charlie. Dean talks about you all the time, I feel like I already know you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Is that so?" Charlie beams. "Hopefully nothing too bad?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"All good things, I assure you," Cas says warmly. It's strange, to see his two best friends interacting with each other. And now that they are it occurs to Dean… he hasn't mentioned Cas to Charlie, other than that one time he mentioned meeting someone on the train. That was before he and Cas were even friends. Cas heads off to the bathroom to change, presumably, and Dean quickly excuses himself to go get ready in his room. Charlie brushes him off, already heading to the kitchen to get her own coffee while she waits. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He owes Charlie for being so nice to Cas, despite never having heard about him before. He's not hiding him or anything. It's just that Cas is <em>his</em> friend and he's never felt the need to hang out with him with anyone else there. It's enough to be just the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets ready as quickly as possible and comes out of his room to see Charlie and Cas chatting on the couch. They're both smiling, and Dean thinks maybe sometime they should all do something together. Come to think of it, they probably have a lot in common. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They all pile into Dean's car, Cas riding shotgun and Charlie in the back. No sooner than Dean drops Cas off, Charlie is sliding into the passenger seat with a wild grin on her face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows that look. It's the look Charlie gets when she thinks she knows something, and Dean has no idea what it could possibly be doing on her face right now. He puts the Impala in park and sighs, turning toward her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What has you so eager?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Cas," Charlie says, grinning somehow even wider. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What about Cas?" Dean asks, confused. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. She's being weird.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Cas,</em>" she says again, eyes widening. "You didn't tell me about Cas."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, he's that therapist I met on the train after Bela dumped me. We ran into each other a few weeks later and have been hanging out the last few months. He's a cool guy." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"A cool guy that slept over last night."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah? He sleeps over on Saturdays after movie night." Dean is sure the confusion is written all over his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"When were you going to tell me?!" She's nearly yelling at this point, bouncing in excitement. "Dean Winchester gets his first boyfriend and doesn't tell his best friend!" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I— you— <em>What?!" </em>Dean sputters. "He's not… Charlie, no." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, fuck buddy, whatever." She shrugs, but doesn't lose the smile. "This is still big!"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Charlie, no, it's not like that." Dean can feel his cheeks heating up. "He just stays over. We trade off who takes the couch." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" she says, sounding slightly suspicious still. "That's… weird. You just have regularly scheduled platonic sleepovers with a guy you met recently? Weird."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's not true. You have sleepovers with Dorothy all the time, and that's not weird."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dorothy and I are fucking, Dean," she says, eyes narrowing as she looks at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh." It's all he can get out. Is it weird? He doesn't really do this with his other friends, but his relationship with Cas is different. But it's not… romantic. Dean would know if it was romantic. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry, dude, I didn't mean to make you panic. It's okay." She reaches over and pats his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You really thought…" he trails off, but the question is still clear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie shrugs. "I don't know, there was sort of an energy when I walked in. And you definitely look at each other like boyfriends."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We do?" Dean asks, genuinely wanting to know the answer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You do." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at the steering wheel, trying not to think too hard about the fact that they're still sitting right outside Cas's apartment building. "I— I do think that maybe… maybe I do like guys. Sometimes. Just… men, generally. Maybe." He's been thinking about it a lot the last few weeks. The idea got stuck in his head after his run-in with Bela, and what Cas said. He glances up at her quickly and keeps looking when he sees the soft smile on her face. "You… knew that already, didn't you?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I knew, yeah. I've heard you talk about Harrison Ford enough times."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did Bela know too?" Dean asks, suddenly feeling panicked. Charlie actually knew Bela; her opinion here carries more weight than what Cas thought. Charlie bites her lips, and gives a small nod. He takes a deep breath. Okay, apparently everyone knew he was into guys before he did. That's fine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie's voice interrupts his thoughts. "To be clear, Dean, just because people close to you could tell you're into men, nobody was questioning whether or not you liked women. I don't think that had anything to do with what happened with Bela." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods a little bit, trying to get control of his thoughts. He's glad Charlie could figure out what he wanted to ask before he had to ask it himself. He thinks for a moment before speaking again."Cas is gay." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie is still watching him closely and gives him another small nod. "Do you like him?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shifts uncomfortably. Does he? And if he did, was there even any chance Cas likes him back? What would happen to their friendship if Dean told Cas about his feelings and— </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shit. Feelings? His <em>feelings</em>? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I… think I do," Dean breathes out, "Like him, I mean. Maybe, I guess."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie smiles. She looks genuinely happy. "I think he might like you too. Are you ready to get back out there?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know. Maybe?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her smile grows. "Okay, let's save the deep conversation for over a plate of waffles. Take me to brunch, Winchester." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles at her, thankful for the out, no matter how temporary it may be. He puts the car in drive, finally heading away from Cas's building. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Dean finally makes him home late that afternoon, he crashes headfirst into the couch. Charlie had eventually let the topic of Cas go, but that didn't mean that he wasn't swirling around in Dean's head for the entire day. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because until Charlie said it, Dean had no idea that he and Cas were acting like a couple. And not only that, Dean likes their dynamic. He's comfortable and happy. And he had attributed that to Cas's friendship just being… easy. They just fit together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's never dated a man before, so maybe he missed the signs or wasn't looking for them or whatever. But now that he looks back… he knows.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has a crush on Cas and that terrifies him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And not just like a regular crush. It's not some giggle-induced teenage girl bullshit. Because Dean and Cas are close. Since their movie nights began, they've gotten to know each other even better, now that they have more time to settle in and talk. And they text during the week now, chatting about their days, discussing movie options for the next Saturday, deciding on who is going to cook what. It feels a lot like they're dating. How did he miss this?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he knows. He missed it because Cas hasn't given him any indication that he's interested. And why would he be? Dean hasn't given Cas any indication that he likes men, intentionally at least. But Charlie could tell, so maybe Cas knows too. There's also the fact that Cas treads very lightly when they discuss relationships. He occasionally will ask Dean a question about Bela, but he keeps those conversations short and doesn't make Dean dwell on it. It hasn't even been two months since he had his meltdown. Even if Cas did like Dean, there's no way he would want to be with someone who was that fucked up over their ex.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Except… Dean doesn't feel fucked up over Bela anymore. Really the only thought in his head half the time is Cas. What Cas is doing. What Cas would think of the joke he just heard. What Cas would like for dinner. What Cas will think of the movie Dean picked out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And maybe the fact that Dean has caught himself dreaming about dark hair and blue eyes should have been a hint too. Because of course, it's not enough that Cas is his best friend, his confidante, a caring, selfless man who knows Dean so well. No, Cas also has to be hot as hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's ignored that. He's told himself that Cas is handsome. A nice-looking man. Anyone can see that Cas is attractive. Dean can recognize when another man is attractive without being attracted to them. But now that Dean is thinking about it, really thinking about it, Cas might just be the hottest guy Dean has ever met. His hair, eternally messy, and somehow even messier when he first wakes up. His eyes, deep blue, that bore right into Dean's soul when he looks at him. His <em>arms</em>. Dean wants to feel those arms gently wrapped around him and then not-so-gently shoving him into a mattress. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh</em>. He probably can't keep ignoring this. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. one for the money</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean is fidgeting uncomfortably in the driver's seat. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Cas taps on the window, mouthing at him to unlock the door. Dean leans over and unlocks it, opening the door slightly before leaning back to where he started. Cas quickly slides into the seat and pulls the door shut behind him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Dean," he says. Has his voice always sent shivers up Dean's spine? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, Cas," Dean says, hoping his voice isn't shaking. He looks over to Cas, who is staring at him, like usual. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you okay, Dean?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, yeah, fine," he lies. He puts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb. He's nervous, really nervous, which is stupid. They've had movie night plenty of times and Dean has never felt nervous. But this is different. Because this time Dean knows he likes Cas, know he <em>wants </em>Cas. He won't do anything about it though. He can't. Not now. He can't risk hurting their friendship. But he knows something has changed for him and that's freaking him out. So instead he spends the entirety of the short drive trying to slowly get himself back into his normal headspace. He and Cas chat about nothing of import, and Dean talks more and more as they keep driving. He feels mostly normal by the time he pulls into his parking spot. He turns slightly to take a glance at Cas before he gets out of the car, but is once again distracted by Cas's blue eyes on him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Something is wrong, Dean. You don't have to tell me what it is, but promise me you're taking care of yourself?" He sounds concerned, and Dean's chest aches. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Just feeling a little weird today, is all. Nothing to worry yourself about. Ain't nothing a little Indiana Jones can't fix." He tries to smirk and hopes it doesn't come across as a grimace. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas raises an eyebrow at him. "More Harrison Ford?" He doesn't look entirely convinced by Dean's attempt to brush him off, but he doesn't press.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean chuckles, but gets out of the car without responding further. Cas follows suit and they head up to Dean's apartment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel has been in his apartment so many times at this point that he moves around and settles in easily. It's almost like he belongs there. He quiets the voice in his head that says that's because he does belong there. But he can't deny that Cas looks good in his space as he falls into Dean's couch and wraps a blanket around himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's spent the entire week thinking about what Charlie said to him. His texts to Cas had been more infrequent than usual because most of the time he would normally spend texting Cas, he spent texting and calling Charlie. She must be sick of him at this point. But she toned down her normal joking for her calm, compassionate side, and helped Dean come to terms with his feelings. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He likes Cas. He <em>really</em> likes Cas. He's funny, caring, smart, dorky, and gorgeous (and it had taken a lot of coaxing from Charlie for him to finally admit that last one out loud). Those qualities in a woman? Dean wouldn't even think about it before making a move. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Cas isn't a woman and Dean just… doesn't know how to do this. Charlie insists that he can just do what he always does, but Dean doesn't know if he can do that. He's scared. He's pretty sure he knows how he feels, but it all feels so foreign that his head is a mess.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And honestly? The anxiety isn't entirely because Cas is a guy. He's starting to realize that it's about how much he likes Cas. How much he doesn't want to mess things up. How much he doesn't want to lose his friend if the feelings aren't reciprocated. How much he desperately wants those feelings to be reciprocated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean snaps his head up when he finally registers the voice calling out to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean? Dean, are you okay?" Cas is still wrapped up on the couch, but he's looking at Dean with wide, concerned eyes. It makes Dean's heart melt a little. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, I'm good," he lies again. Cas looks at him skeptically, but doesn't call him on it. "Let's make dinner?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas nods in reply and joins Dean in the kitchen. Dean normally doesn't like cooking with anyone, but it's different with Cas. He doesn't feel the need to control everything, partially because he trusts Cas not to fuck anything up, and partially because he likes to watch the look of concentration he gets when he focuses on a task. They work in relative silence, other than the small instructions Dean passes onto Cas. He hasn't actually told him what they're making, wanting it to be a surprise, but Cas has probably figured it out by now. Dean had put on his Cas-friendly playlist before they started, so Cas is humming quietly as he slices vegetables. Dean takes a break from stirring to watch him. The intense stare that is so frequently directed at Dean is now directed at a tomato. His tongue is sticking out slightly as he concentrates.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It is absolutely the most adorable thing Dean has ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes advantage of the continued focus Cas is paying to the task at hand to keep looking at him, letting himself look closer than he ever has. He really is beautiful. The strong line of his jaw. The deep blue of his eyes. The dark, messy hair that Dean wants to run his hands through. The muscles of his back and arms that his shirt does nothing to contain. He's not planning on making a move on Cas. Not tonight, at least. Tonight he just wants to spend time with Cas while aware of his own feelings. He wants to see if his feelings change now that he can tell they're there. So far? He feels the same. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean clears his throat, trying to break his train of thought. He needs to relax. "Cas, you want a beer?" he asks, voice gruff. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, please," Cas replies without looking up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shuffles over to the fridge, glad for the distraction. He opens it up and frowns. No beer. He didn't realize he was out, but it's possible his alcohol intake had increased slightly this week. He moves some things around, trying to find any stragglers. They could just forgo it tonight, but Dean is feeling fidgety and nervous. He could really use something to take the edge off so he can enjoy his night with Cas like usual, but he doesn't fee like he should jump straight to whiskey.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The dark bottle that has become an unmoving fixture in the back of his fridge catches his eye. He'd shoved it back there without really thinking five months ago, even though what he really wanted to do was throw it away. For a few days, it bothered him to see it there. But then he got used to its presence and never actually registered that it was there when he went into his fridge. There's really no reason not to just drink it. He doesn't want to throw it away and it's not like it's doing any good in his fridge. He reaches in to grab it and places it on the counter, slightly to the side of where Cas is working. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Does he even have champagne glasses? He looks in his cabinet and moves things around trying to find what he's looking for. He's contemplating pulling out the regular wine glasses when Cas speaks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean?" Dean turns around at the concern in his voice. Cas isn't looking at him, eyes on the bottle. "Dom Pérignon? For Indiana Jones night?" Dean can't really see his face, but he can imagine the look of confusion there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shrugs, even though Cas isn't looking at him. "Out of beer," he says simply, turning back to the cabinet and pulling out the wine glasses. They're not the right kind, but he's not celebrating anyway, so what does it really matter?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're out of beer, so you pulled out a bottle of Dom Pérignon." Dean knows Cas's questioning tone by now, so he knows Cas is confused. He turns around to place the glasses on the counter and sees that Castiel is staring at him intently now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shrugs again now that Cas can actually see him. "Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas somehow stares more intently. "Dean, this is an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What am I supposed to do? Not drink it?" He tries to keep the defensiveness he feels out of his voice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Don't you want to save this for a special occasion?" Cas asks. He speaks carefully, in a calming voice that makes the tension melt out of Dean. He knows Cas isn't trying to be accusatory; he's just trying to understand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks away from Cas as he answers. "I tried that. Didn't work out so well, dude," he says calmly. He looks up at Cas after a moment of silence, only to see sympathy and understanding in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas reaches out and places his hand on Dean's shoulder. The contact makes him momentarily go stiff. It's not like Castiel has never touched him before, but it feels different now. He calms himself down and waits for Cas to speak. "You're okay?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, Cas," he says, rubbing the back of his neck as Cas releases the grip on his shoulder. "I actually forgot it was there, but I wouldn't mind getting rid of it. Doesn't feel right to wait for a special occasion or whatever now. Let's just drink it and have fun, okay?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas finally smiles at him, a warm, closed-mouth smile that makes Dean's heart melt. "Do you have champagne glasses?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We got regular wine glasses and we got coffee mugs. What'll you take?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas chuckles. "I'm pretty sure if we drink this out of coffee mugs, we will be arrested if we ever set foot in France."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean laughs loudly at that, and nudges the wine glasses he already grabbed over into Cas's line of vision. "Figured you'd say something like that." He opens up the bottle and pours them both a glass. Cas insists they clink glasses, but they don't toast to anything in particular. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finish up cooking dinner and settle in to eat at the table. It feels like it usually does, though the champagne is making him feel warm and light since they already had a glass while they cooked. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's just as easy to joke with Cas as it's always been. It's just as easy to tell him weird stories whenever they come to mind. The only thing that's changed is that Dean lets himself think about his feelings for Cas. If anything, all the feelings he thought were there are even stronger now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before long the food and champagne are gone and they've moved onto a bottle of whiskey. At some point, they migrated into the living room, but Dean's not really sure when it happens. The champagne bottle sits empty and abandoned between them where they're sitting on the floor in front of the couch, angled slightly toward each other. Dean hands the whiskey bottle back over to Cas so he can take another drink; they're not bothering with glasses anymore. They never actually started their movie. Dean is giggling — <em>actually giggling</em> — at something Cas has said. It wasn't actually funny, except for everything is funny, even Cas's comment about how he's a bit of a lightweight when it comes to champagne. And he's right, which is why he laughed. He feels a little fuzzy around the edges. He's not exactly drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. The whiskey isn't hurting that, either.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't realize he's staring until he hears Cas's voice. "Why are you looking at me like that, Dean?" He tilts his head slightly as he asks it. His voice gives it away that he's feeling the alcohol just as much as Dean.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Like what?" Dean asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas hesitates before responding. "I don't know. Just differently than you normally look at me." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Bad differently?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, just differently." Dean doesn't press him for more details. Because the look Cas is giving him is different than normal, too. His eyes are focused, but there's something behind them that makes the look feel different. More important, somehow. Like this moment matters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's not sure if it's the alcohol or his recent realization of his feelings, but the air between them feels charged. Dean lets himself get lost in the feel of it, which is probably why he doesn’t feel himself leaning forward. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't even notice how close he's drifted to Castiel until their lips meet. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a shorter one, but I couldn't help myself and had to end it there! Maybe I'll try to get the next chapter up a little faster than usual so I don't leave y'all hanging for too long.<br/>Also, a big thank you to everyone who is reading this. I love you all. Come say hi in the comments or on <a href="https://big-wet-cas-eyes.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>! 🥰</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. two for the show</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warning for this chapter: very brief mention of blood</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean wakes up feeling like he got hit by a bus. His head is throbbing with what promises to be one hell of a hangover. One of his arms is asleep. He blinks his eyes open to take in his surroundings and squints at the bright light streaming through the window.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's on the floor of his living room. The empty champagne bottle from last night is on its side. The whiskey bottle is on its side too, but luckily the cap made it back on. He's not really lying down; it's more like he fell asleep sitting up and slumped over overnight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas is warm and breathing gently next to him. Dean's arms are wrapped around him. He nuzzles his face into Cas's hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes snap all the way open when the memory of last night comes back to him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hadn't meant for it to happen, but the champagne clouded his judgment. Because Cas was looking at him and his whole body felt tingly with anticipation… and it just happened. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It started out soft, with their lips pressing gently together. But then Cas put his hand on Dean's jaw and all of his restraint flew out the window. He gripped the back of Cas's head, finally getting his fingers in the mess of hair, and pulled them even closer together. Cas gasped a little at that and Dean took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. They kept themselves vertical, more or less, but the kiss turned frantic. Dean's hands were roaming around Cas's back, fingertips brushing under the hem of his shirt. Cas's arms were wrapped firmly around his waist, holding Dean impossibly close. It hadn't gone any further than that. The end is a little fuzzy, but they're both still fully clothed so Dean is pretty sure they just kissed until they fell asleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kissed him. He actually kissed him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean had come to terms with the fact that he has feelings for Cas over the course of the week, but he wasn't prepared to act on them. He wasn't ready to mess up his friendship if Cas didn't want it. He wasn't ready for things to get physical. He almost wishes he could take it back, wishes he had waited until he knew for sure that he was ready, even though it was easily the best first kiss he's ever had. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas stirs in his arms slightly and Dean lifts his head so he can watch him as his eyes open. Cas turns toward Dean and then jolts back like he's been electrocuted when their eyes meet. Dean's formerly asleep arm prickles harshly at the loss of contact as it tries to get feeling back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean! I— what— where…" he sputters out, eyes darting around as he realizes what's going on. Dean gives him a second to calm down. It's not like anything he could say would help because he feels the same way, even though his own panic is internal. After a minute, he finally makes eye contact with Dean again. He looks pained. "Dean, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to… I never want to make you uncomfortable."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You… what?" Dean asks. Out of everything Cas could've said, this is not what he expected. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you… not remember?" Cas gives him his usual careful look. "We… kissed last night…" He blushes slightly before adding, "a lot."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean is sure his face is splotched with red as well. "I know that, Cas. I just meant… I'm not sure why you're apologizing. I'm pretty sure it was my fault." He winces internally at himself for using the word <em>fault</em>. <em>Fault</em> implies that Dean thought of it as a bad thing. Panic or not, that kiss was definitely not a bad thing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas is silent for a moment, watching him. "Really? You… wanted to do that?" He looks around a little and frowns when he spots the overturned champagne bottle. "Oh. You just meant you provided the alcohol."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks like someone kicked his puppy and Dean can't stand that he's the one that caused that. He stomps down the panic rising in his mind and lets himself reassure Cas with the truth, even though his heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest. "No. I meant I wanted to do that." He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to kiss you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's eyes go wide. His mouth remains in a hard line, but there's a twinkle in his eye. "You did? I didn't think…" He trails off, eyes trained to Dean.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You didn't think I liked guys?" he asks. Cas looks slightly guilty, but gives him a small nod. "Yeah, me neither."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did I—" Cas begins, but Dean cuts him off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's something I've known for a while, I guess. I've been thinking about it more lately, and about you. Something Charlie said after you met her got me thinking." Another small nod from Cas. "I wasn't planning on this, though. I wasn't sure if I was ready." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's eyes immediately go sad again. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant to push you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, Cas, you didn't… wait. Push me? You wanted that too?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's blush extends to his ears now. "For a while now. I was trying really hard to reel it in because I love being your friend. And I still want to be your friend, even if you think it was a mistake." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you think it was a mistake?" he asks in a near whisper. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Only if it hurts our friendship," he says. His voice is firm, but careful. "Do you?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that really is the question, isn't it? Does Dean think it was a mistake? He doesn't even know. Because it felt so good and so right, but he hasn't had enough time to even process the feelings. He knows himself well enough to know that if he doesn't take the time to process everything, he's going to lose it and this will blow up in his face. He takes a deep breath before responding, dreading what he knows he has to say. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't think it was a mistake, but," he begins, noticing that Cas's eyes lose some of their brightness when the word <em>but </em>comes out.,"I'm not ready to do it again. Not yet. But maybe… maybe soon?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas squints his eyes slightly, studying Dean's face. "I understand," he says after the silence between them was stretching on long enough that Dean was starting to squirm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You do?" Dean asks, slightly taken aback. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I do, Dean. You suffered a major relationship trauma only a few months ago, and you're questioning your sexuality. I've experienced both of those things, and I can't imagine what it would be like to process both of them at once. It will take time. I would never want to rush you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Slow down on the psychoanalysis, doc," he responds. He chuckles nervously, trying to deflect the fact that Cas immediately knew why he was hesitant. He isn't surprised at the understanding because it's Cas. He still appreciates the words even though it makes him slightly uncomfortable that Cas can read him so easily. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles gently at him. "Sorry," he says quietly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, no, you're… right. But I want to figure things out because…" he trails off, going silent for a moment. He takes a deep breath and reaches across the space between them to grab Cas's hand. He cups it gently between both of his hands. "I want something with you. I don't know exactly what yet… but my feelings for you are not strictly platonic. I at least know that much." He blushes again and tries to pull his hands away. He only manages to get one back though, because Cas is gripping the other one tightly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, I want something with you too. I have a better idea of what that is, I think… but I can wait until you figure it out for yourself. Take all the time you need."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Really?" Dean asks, voice soft and hopeful.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course," Cas says. He sighs quietly before he adds on, "Would it help if we canceled movie night until you figure it out? We could go back to Saturday afternoons at the coffee shop." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean wants to say no, because he really does not want to stop their Saturday nights together, but he thinks it over before answering. Because if they keep doing this, what's preventing last night from happening again? Now that Dean knows what kissing Cas is like… he knows he'll want it again. Hell, he wants to feel that again right now. But he absolutely needs to sort his head out so he doesn't risk ruining everything. He needs to remove the temptation. Even if he figures out what he wants by next Saturday, it will probably help to take the pressure off. They can always extend coffee time into movie night if Dean feels ready.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, let's plan for the coffee shop this week," Dean says reluctantly, "if that's okay with you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, Dean."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The air is different while they get ready for the day. It's not exactly awkward, but it's not their normal level of comfort. They decide not to do breakfast, or even coffee, both citing a need to take a nap immediately after a night of sleeping on the floor. Dean drops Cas off at his apartment barely an hour after they woke up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean doesn't have time to process the morning before he passes out face first in his bed as his hangover catches back up to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel hasn't been able to think about anything else since he got home on Sunday, even three days later. Going over to Dean's on Saturday, he would've never been able to guess how the weekend would end.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kissed Dean. Dean knew about Castiel's feelings. And not only that, Dean had feelings for him too. It should be enough to keep his head in the clouds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But what's keeping his feet firmly on the ground is the fact that Dean isn't ready. For a relationship, for a relationship with a man, for a relationship with <em>him</em>. He isn't sure exactly which part is the hardest for Dean to come to terms with, but he understands. He can let him take his time to figure it out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It scares Castiel, though, the prospect of a relationship with Dean. Dean is so unsure about what he actually wants. He's clearly conflicted. And Cas understands that, he does. It's just… he doesn't want to get hurt in the process while Dean figures it all out. He's not sure he'll feel comfortable at the thought of being with Dean until Dean can voice that he wants to be together with no indication of hesitance. He doesn't want to be afraid of Dean changing his mind. He needs certainty. He hopes Dean can get there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wants it though. He wants it so much. Dean fits into his life so well. Every time he sees him, he feels more and more like meeting him was fate. Like no matter what happened, their lives would always end up converging. Dean is the most caring man he's ever met, and Cas wants to spend every day being the one that cares for him. He allows himself to feel hopeful for a moment until the fear rushes back in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He groans and flops face-first into his bed, shoving his face into the pillow. He stays like that, losing himself in his thoughts until his phone buzzes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>
Sorry, I need to cancel coffee this weekend. Something came up. Raincheck?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel stares at the message, unblinking. Apparently, Dean is even more apprehensive about this than he thought. It's the first time he's heard from him since Dean dropped him off on Sunday. What are the odds something actually came up and that Dean's not just avoiding him? Probably not very good. He already knew that rejection at this point would hurt, but turns out the forewarning didn't do anything to dampen the pain. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's still early, but he lets himself drift off to sleep anyway. He doesn't have the energy to do anything else tonight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Saturday rolls around and it's the first time in months that Castiel doesn't have plans to see Dean. He feels strangely empty and he hates himself for feeling like that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's after ten in the morning already and Castiel is still in bed. He could stay like this all day, but he knows he shouldn't He grabs his phone and dials, without thinking too much about it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What's up, baby bro?" Gabriel answers on the second ring. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Lunch?" Castiel asks, voice still rough with sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The change in Gabriel's tone is too obvious for Castiel's liking. "What's wrong?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel groans. "I'll tell you at lunch. Pick me up at noon?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, I'm there. Don't forget to put on pants," Gabriel says smoothly, hanging up before Castiel can chastise him for brining up the pants incident. It was <em>one time</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He taps over to his text messages and freezes. He was so upset when Dean texted him that he never responded. He feels guilty. He was upset that Dean was clearly giving him the brush off, clearly wanting space, but Castiel still cares for him. He doesn't feel right ignoring him. He sends off a text message, ignoring the fact that his reply is coming days later and not even bothering to explain himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Dean<br/>
Of course. I hope everything is OK. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stares at the screen for longer than necessary before finally locking his phone and dragging himself out of bed. Shower, shaving, clothes… he can do this. He's sort of dropped the ball on basic self-care the last few days, doing the bare minimum to make sure he doesn't seem too out of it at work. But Gabriel knows him better than anyone (except maybe Dean, if he's being honest), and he'll see right through him if he shows up with a beard and unwashed hair. Not that he really has a chance of fooling him anyway. One word on the phone and Gabriel could tell something was wrong. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's sitting on the couch, ready for the day, staring at the phone in his lap when it finally lights up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Gabriel<br/>
Get your ass down here, I'm in a no parking zone</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Gabriel<br/>
I mean that respectfully. Your respectable ass</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel rolls his eyes, but is internally very glad he called Gabriel this morning. This is just what he needs. He grabs his keys and wallet before heading out the door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel eyes him when he slides into the car, but keeps silent until they reach their destination. He waits until most of the way through their meal to even bring up Castiel's mood, sticking to safe small talk beforehand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Alright, little bro," Gabriel says around a mouthful of bread, "what's the deal?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel lets out a sigh. "Dean and I kissed," he says, not looking at Gabriel's face. He eventually looks up when the silence stretches too long. Gabriel is staring at him, mouth hanging open and full of food. "Are you going to say anything?" he asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel composes himself and swallows. "You… kissed him."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," Castiel says, confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You… <em>just</em> kissed him? You didn't do anything else," Gabriel says slowly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes?" Castiel replies, unsure of where he's going with this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dude, what are we, in middle school?!" Gabriel says loudly. "You're in your 30s and you're freaking out because you kissed a guy you like?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, when you say it like that…" Castiel says with a groan. "It's stupid."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No, no," Gabriel says quickly, reaching out to pat him on the arm. "I'm being a dick. You're allowed to freak out. You haven't dated anyone since Mick. Not seriously, at least."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel nods. "I haven't," he says carefully, "but it's not just that. Dean is scared. I know he has feelings for me, but he hasn't felt this way about a man before. I want to give him space to figure things out and not scare him off, but… you know." He shrugs vaguely. "We were supposed to see each other today and he canceled without an explanation, so I have no idea what to think."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're worried he won't ever figure things out," Gabriel says knowingly, "and that he's going to avoid the problem until it goes away."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Exactly." He sighs. "When did you get so insightful?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, if you want to know what I think, and I think you do because you're the one who called me, I say give him his time. Give him time to process, but if it goes on longer than you can wait, just tell him. No point in freaking out about if and when he'll get there. It'll happen or it won't." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel smiles at that. "That's good advice. Thank you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's what I'm here for, Cassie. Now, where's the dessert menu? Excellent relationship advice is offered exclusively in exchange for sugar." Castiel chuckles, but waves over their waitress so that Gabriel can have his dessert. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That night, Castiel still hasn't heard anything from Dean. He decides if he's going to wallow in self-pity, he might as well be intoxicated. Gabriel had made him feel better, but that doesn't mean he can't mope a little.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's halfway through his second glass of whiskey when he hears a knock at his door. He frowns, not sure why someone would be bothering him this late. He puts his glass down and walks to the door, somewhat glad he hasn't had enough yet to be stumbling, or even drunk, even though that is the end goal. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he opens the door, the last thing he expects to see is Dean Winchester, bloodied and bruised, standing on his doorstep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So is this cliffhanger better or worse than the last one...?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. madhouse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warning for this chapter: violence and description of injuries. Both things are typical of what you would see in canon and they are fairly brief, so I wouldn't classify them as graphic. I'm adding 'canon-typical violence' to the tags. Feel free to reach out to me on <a href="https://big-wet-cas-eyes.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you have questions about it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Bobby calls him on Tuesday morning and tells him there's a monster terrorizing Michigan's upper peninsula, Dean almost hangs up the phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Bobby, I'm not a hunter anymore," Dean says firmly. "Find someone else."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bobby grunts. "There is no one else, boy." Dean can almost feel Bobby glaring at him through the phone. "Tell yourself whatever you gotta to get through the day, but you're still a hunter."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I haven't been on a hunt in damn near a decade, Bobby. Even if I did want to go, I'm rusty. I can't handle a hunt on my own." He thinks back to what ended up being his last hunt when he fell down three flights of stairs while fighting off a werewolf. Luckily, Sam ganked the thing while Dean was unconscious and he wasn't even out that long. Unfortunately, he crushed his entire goddamn leg. Between waiting for the break to heal and the subsequent infection, he was out of commission for a while. It was a long time before he could put any weight on it. Even longer before he could move like he used to, or even close to it. And by the time he was physically able to start hunting again, he didn't want to. He was enjoying the normalcy of his day-to-day life. He was helping Bobby with the books in his auto shop. Once his leg allowed it, he was working on cars. He had a small apartment that actually felt like home, something he hadn't felt since he was a kid. He'd been living on the road almost his entire life, and he liked staying put for once. So he put his roots down in Grand Rapids, went to work, settled into his apartment, made friends… And just like that, Dean Winchester wasn't a hunter anymore. He sighs loudly, knowing that he probably won't win this argument with Bobby. "Why can't Sam and Eileen do it?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"They're in Cincinnati on a hunt," Bobby replies. The eye roll is almost audible in his voice. Dean frowns. Sam usually at least lets him know when he's heading out for a hunt. He still has trouble with the fact that his little brother is still in the life. He never expected that he would be the one to get out while Sam stuck with it. But then again, Dean hadn't anticipated Sam falling in love with a hunter either. Eileen is a badass, and Dean knew Sam would be safe with her calling the shots from the start. Despite still being hunters, they lead a relatively normal life, something Dean had never managed in his hunting days. Sam and Eileen live in the apartment above Bobby's garage, so they have a rent-free home base. They run a small business that provides sign language tutoring and interpreter services, and Sam picks up hours at the garage when he can. They only go on hunts about once, maybe twice, a month. Usually, they take quick jobs that could be knocked out over the weekend, but they'll sometimes be gone for a week or more, which must be what's going on now. Bobby is wheelchair-bound and unable to hunt these days, but he always gets a call when something heads to their neck of the woods. If anyone else was available, Dean knows Bobby would've asked them first.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Bobby… I can't."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"People are dying, son. You can and you will."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And because Dean's never been able to say no to Bobby, he finds himself pulling into a motel parking lot in Houghton eight hours later. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By Wednesday afternoon, he has a whole lot of nothing figured out and realizes this is not going to be the quick two day hunt he was hoping for. By Wednesday evening, he realizes that means he has to cancel on Cas.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&lt;&lt;To: Cas<br/>Sorry, I need to cancel coffee this weekend. Something came up. Raincheck?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wants to say more, but he knows he can't. It's not like he's trying to hide part of himself, he defends in his own mind, because this isn't actually part of his life anymore. He hasn't been hunting in years. Hell, he'd already been out of the game long enough when he met Bela that he didn't ever feel the need to tell her about his past. He hadn't even felt bad about it; he was glad to shield her from that part of the world. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">These days, his hunting experience is hearing stories from Eileen and Sam at family dinners or hearing Bobby tell the same stories he's been telling for years about some monster or another he killed with Rufus back in the day. He doesn't even help Sam with case research anymore now that he has Eileen. Hunting is in his family, but it's not in him. Not anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But not telling Cas… it feels wrong. It's not necessarily that he thinks he would handle it better than Bela would have, it's just that it actually does feel like lying this time. Maybe that's just because he's actually out hunting right now, or maybe it's because things with Cas are different. Maybe both. He hasn't considered having this conversation with Cas yet. It never even occurred to him. He's still not sure what he wants with Cas, but it's starting to feel like he needs to know about the hunting thing before any real decisions are made. Because whether or not Dean is ready for an actual relationship, he wants Cas in his life. He has plenty of friends that don't know about hunting, he's never even told Charlie, but his relationship with Cas is special. He wants to tell him things that he usually keeps inside, and for most of those things, he does tell him. He lets secrets fall out of his lips and watches as Cas listens intently, never looking like he's judging Dean for even the worst things he's said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He realizes then that he loves Cas. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It scares the shit out of him, but he really, really wants it. He hopes Cas will forgive him for being a fuckup. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes him almost the entire day on Thursday to figure out he's hunting a shapeshifter. He manages to track the thing down late on Friday. He finds its lair and almost manages to get a silver knife in it before it notices that he's there. Unfortunately, it turns around at the last second and Dean finds himself fighting a monster for the first time in eight years. He takes some hits to the face and gets knocked to the ground a few times. It hurts more than he remembered. Eventually, he manages to get the blade in its chest, around the same time he feels blood coming out of his nose. Maybe he's a little rusty, but at least he took care of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets back to his motel room just after midnight. He wipes off some dried blood from under his nose, which appears to have stopped bleeding, with the back of his sleeve. He strips out of his filthy shirt and jeans, and passes out headfirst on the scratchy sheets. He lets himself sleep until he wakes up, not even stirring until almost noon. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hops in the Impala without even a glance at his phone, wanting to get home as soon as possible. He has not missed the motel aspect of hunter life at all, and wants his own bed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finally makes it home that night, he calls Bobby to let him know it's handled. There's some pride evident in Bobby's gruff congratulations, but Dean refuses to let the praise drag him back into the life. He takes a few minutes to go through the text messages that piled up while he was working the case. He'd forgotten how exhausting all that research can be. His time had been entirely occupied, so he feels behind on the world. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A text from Cas from earlier that day stops him in his tracks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>&gt;&gt;From: Cas<br/>Of course. I hope everything is OK. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean frowns. How did he not notice that he hadn't heard back from Cas? He spent every moment when his brain wasn't focused on the shapeshifter thinking about Cas, about how he wants to be with Cas, about how he loves Cas. What's worse is that Cas responded a full three days after Dean cancelled. Cas is a busy guy who doesn’t respond to texts right away, but he also isn't one to leave texts unanswered for days at a time. Something is wrong. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And immediately Dean realizes what it is. They kissed, Dean freaked out, and then he cancelled their plans with no explanation. While Dean was out thinking that he might actually be ready to give things a real chance with Cas, Cas was thinking that Dean was over it. Uninterested. Moving on. Too scared to bother.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought has Dean snatching up his keys and running back to his car, speeding all the way to Cas's building. He runs inside and pounds on the door. His heart is hammering in his chest. When he hears shuffling in the apartment, he realizes he has no idea what he's going to say. He hopes it'll come to him when he sees Cas's face. He hopes he'll see relief there, hopes that Cas will realize that Dean cancelling really was nothing more than something else coming up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn't expect the look of confusion on Cas's face when he opens the door to immediately shift to horror.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's eyes are wide, unblinking as he stares at Dean. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, Cas," Dean starts, shifting uncomfortably under Cas's intense gaze, "obviously you don't want to see me, but I really need to talk to you. Can I come in?" He lets it all out in one breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas is still staring. The silence stretches on and right when Dean thinks he may have irreparably fucked things up, Cas finally speaks. "What happened to you?" It comes out quietly, almost a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about why I cancelled, Cas. Please, let me come in," Dean pleads. He's not sure he could take it Cas didn't even hear him out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" Cas says, voice still impossibly quiet, "your face…" He reaches out and touches Dean's cheek gently. His fingers barely graze the skin, fluttering near the surface, but the pressure is enough that Dean hisses slightly in pain. Right, he got in a fistfight with a damn monster last night. Cas is worried about his busted up face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm fine, I promise. I can explain," Dean says even though he has no intention of explaining the injuries. Not tonight, anyway. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas nods and opens the door wider, letting Dean slide in past him. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror Cas has hanging by the door and he jaw drops open. He apparently did a much worse job of cleaning himself up last night than he thought he did. He probably shouldn't have skipped looking in the mirror this morning. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There's a huge purple bruise over his right eye. He remembers the hit that probably caused that one. His eye isn't swollen shut (he probably would've realized how beat up he was sooner if it was), but the skin around his eye is irritated and puffy. There's a large cut high on his left cheek. It's not bleeding now, but there's enough dried blood around and under it that it looks like it is. Another gash above his eyebrow looks like it's halfway to infected. His eyebrow is almost completely caked in blood. A line of dark bruises trails around his jaw. Various scrapes and cuts are scattered around the rest of his face, not bloody but still angry looking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No wonder Cas looks horrified. Did he fucking imagine cleaning himself up last night? Did he even bother to check if he was still bleeding? He's probably already gotten a massive charge on his credit card for bleeding all over the damn motel room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sees Cas's worried eyes from over his shoulder in the mirror. He turns to face him, looking into his eyes. He could get lost in those eyes, but now really isn't the time. He's not sure how long they stand there without speaking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His voice is resigned when he finally says, "I didn't know it looked this bad. I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas frowns. "What happened? Who did this to you?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's not surprised at the question He knew it was coming as soon as he saw what he really looked like. He sighs. "That's a really long story, Cas."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas opens his mouth and then hesitates. Eventually, he says, "Is this not what you wanted to talk to me about?" He sounds confused.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I wanted to talk to you about something else. I'll tell you about the… this," Dean says, gesturing at his face, "but it's… a lot and I'm not sure I'm ready for you to hear all of it." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas stares for a moment, but then nods. "Will you let me clean you up? I'm worried about how some of those cuts look, and if you haven't even looked in a mirror, I'm sure you haven't done any first aid." It almost sounds like the teasing tone Cas uses on him sometimes, but there's an undercurrent of something different. Fear. Nervousness. Concern. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You don't have to," Dean protests quietly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Let me," Cas says firmly. His voice softens when he adds, "I want to take care of you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods and walks over to sit on Cas's tiny couch. He runs his hand through his hair a few times, grimacing slightly when he realizes there must be a bruise up there as well. This isn't really going as planned.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas returns a minute later and sits next to Dean, placing a first aid kit between them. He shuffles the contents around a bit before pulling a few things out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This might sting," Cas says as he brings an alcohol swab to the cut on his forehead. It does sting. It stings a lot. He clenches his teeth a little to help offset the pain. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stay quiet while Cas works. His hands are gentle, never pressing harder than he needs to. He whispers quiet apologies whenever Dean reacts particularly strongly to a touch. He works slowly, methodically. His brow stays furrowed in concentration. Eventually, Dean lets his eyes drift shut. It's too much to be this close to Cas's face with that look of concern in his eyes. It makes him feel too much. Fifteen minutes later and Cas calmly announces that he's done. He closes up the first aid kit, standing to go put it away. Dean stands up too and walks back to the mirror. His face looks better. No more dried blood. The larger cuts have been bandaged. The bruising and swelling still look terrible, but the ibuprofen Cas gave him should help with at least the swelling. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He goes back to the couch, where Cas has already returned. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you," Dean says genuinely. "It feels a lot better now. Looks better, too."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, Dean," Cas says. His voice is so certain and clear, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no possible reason Cas wouldn't take care of Dean. His eyes narrow slightly. "You're really not going to tell me what caused all of this?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shakes his head. "Honestly, you wouldn't believe me if I did," Dean says. Cas opens his mouth, probably to protest, so Dean continues quickly. "I'm not saying you don't trust me. I'm just saying that it's… it's going to be a lot to process, and I needed to talk to you about something else."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're scaring me, Dean," Cas says. The wide-eyed look is back. "Is it bad? Are you in some kind of trouble?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not in trouble, Cas. It… might be bad, but probably not in the way you're thinking. I swear, I'll tell you. I just need more time to figure out how to without you running for the hills." He looks down and wrings his hands together before adding more quietly, "You might run for the hills anyway." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean jumps slightly when Cas's hand slides over his own. He looks up to see Cas's face closer than it was before. His expression is soft and kind. Comforting. He isn't smiling, but there's a warmth there. "It can wait if you need it to. Now what was so important you needed to show up on my doorstep unannounced and covered in blood?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean is so surprised that Cas is teasing him right now that he barks out a loud laugh. It helps the tension drain out of his shoulders and gives him the courage to actually talk. "When I cancelled this week," Dean begins. He doesn't miss the way Cas deflates at the words. "Something really did come up. It was important. And yes, it does have something to do with the state of my face. But it didn't even occur to me that you might have thought I was blowing you off because I freaked out until I got home today and saw your text. I drove here as soon as I realized what you must have thought." Cas is watching him, head tilted slightly, but no emotion apparent on his face as he listens intently. Dean continues, "I was so busy this week that I didn't even realize you hadn't gotten back to me. Which is ridiculous because every single moment of free time I had… I spent it thinking about you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's sharp intake of breath is the first reaction Dean has gotten out of him. He watches him, waiting to see if he has anything to say. But Cas just keeps looking at him expectantly, so he continues.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Cas… I want this. I want you. I don't think I've ever actually felt this way about someone before, and it really fucking freaks me out. Because I've been in love before, but you… you're different. There's something here and I don't know how to explain it… but I can't give it up. I don't want to."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You want a relationship?" The question is so quiet Dean almost doesn't hear it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He nods. "I do. I really, really do." And with that, he leans forward and presses a light kiss to Cas's lips. It's not the drunken, urgent makeout session from last week. This kiss is chaste, quick. Just a brief brush of lips, a firm press together, and then Dean pulls away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You aren't scared?" His volume has increased slightly, but Dean still has to strain to hear him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm always scared. And this is… look, you know this is new to me. And yeah, maybe that does scare me. But the thought of losing you and never giving this a chance scares me more." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I want this too, Dean," Cas says. Dean breaks into a big smile, but Cas doesn't return it. He realizes why when Cas keeps talking. "I need to know… whatever else is going on with you… will it make you change your mind?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean doesn't know how to answer that. Because honestly? It might. Depending on how Cas handles the knowledge that monsters exist and that Dean grew up killing them… depending on Cas's level of discomfort with the idea… it might be better for Cas if Dean just walks away. Hell, it would probably be better for Cas if he left, regardless of how he reacts, regardless of if he even tells him. But even if it's the smart thing, he can't see anything tearing him away from this unless Cas says he doesn't want it. Dean swallows. "I'm more scared that it will make you change your mind. And it would probably be better for you if you did." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas looks deep in thought as he considers Dean's words. "Dean, I can't say that what you're saying now doesn't terrify me. I want to say that nothing will change how I feel about you, but… I can't even begin to guess what you're keeping from me now. So I think you're right to be scared of that."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean frowns, but nods nonetheless. "I understand. And I swear, I will tell you. I just… need to talk it over with someone who gets it first. I've only ever told this to one person I've dated, and it didn't go well. Most of my friends don't even know. It's… a family thing." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"A family thing," Cas repeats slowly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, kind of," Dean corrects, "but Sammy knows all about it and I need his help to know how to… do this part. How to tell you. It's a lot and I don't want to do it wrong." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas nods slightly. "I will wait for you to be ready to talk about it, but please don't take too long. I'm worried about you." His voice is calm. Dean can hear a hint of pleading in it, but only because he knows Cas so well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles. "Thank you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And finally, <em>finally</em>, Cas smiles at him for the first time that night. He loves that smile. He wants to lean in to kiss that smile. So he does. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They break apart a few minutes later. Their foreheads press lightly together, Cas carefully avoiding the bandaged part of Dean's. "Stay tonight? We don't have to do anything. I just… want to make sure you're safe. I don't know if I could sleep if you left."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean kisses his nose. "How can I argue with that?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stays.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The third time Castiel wakes up intertwined with Dean is nothing like the first two times. This time they fell asleep like this on purpose. This time he's allowed to snuggle in a little closer, hold him a little tighter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun is barely up. Castiel feels wide awake, though, because he and Dean had fallen into bed fairly early. After dinner and a shower for Dean, they tried to watch a movie, but Dean had nodded off onto Castiel's shoulder almost immediately. Castiel had pulled him to the bedroom and tucked him into bed, sliding in right next to him. He wrapped Dean in his arms and Dean fell asleep with his head on Castiel's chest. They shifted overnight and Castiel is now holding Dean from behind. He nuzzles his face into Dean's hair, breathing in the scent of his own shampoo on Dean's head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's perfect.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Except that… it's not. Castiel wants with all his heart to think that this moment is perfect, but really he's just lying to himself. Because if he could see Dean's face right now, he'd be looking at bandages and a black eye. Because Dean had showed up at his house last night covered in blood. Because when Castiel had helped him into a pair of borrowed pajamas, he saw that the bruises were not just confined to Dean's face. And Castiel still has no idea why. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It scares the shit out of him. Something happened to Dean, something bad, and he can't even begin to imagine what it is. Dean had said that maybe Castiel wouldn't want him anymore after he knew… and he hates to admit that Dean might be right.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wonders if Dean would have told him about this… whatever this is… if he hadn't been cornered into it. Because whatever this is, it doesn't seem like it was an accident or a one time thing. Dean is acting like he has a huge life-altering secret. He called it a "family thing." His chest aches when he realizes that Dean has probably had this secret the whole time they've known each other, but didn't want to share it. He chases the thought away though. Even with how close they've gotten, Dean isn't obligated to tell Castiel everything. Maybe he'd like to know everything, and maybe Dean already knows everything about him, but Dean is allowed to keep things to himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Dean said he would tell him, so it's really not worth thinking about whether or not Dean would have said anything if things played out differently. He'll know eventually and he'll make his decision about their future then. If he's going to learn something that's going to rip Dean out of his life, then he's going to enjoy what they have while it lasts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He holds Dean even tighter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Surprise?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. fucked in the head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warning for this chapter: violence and description of injuries. Same deal as the last chapter:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you sure you want to tell him, Dean?" Sam asks, clearly exasperated. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," Dean says firmly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" Sam sighs. "You're going to ruin this guy's life if you tell him. This isn't easy information to process."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He deserves to know, Sammy," Dean says, "He wants to be with me and I can't just… hide such a huge part of myself, my <em>life</em> from him."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam stares at him blankly. He begins to open his mouth to speak, but a different voice interrupts him before he can. Dean had forgotten Eileen was in the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did you tell Bela?" she asks. Dean knows that she already knows the answer to the question, but it doesn't sound accusatory. It just sounds like she's trying to make a point.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No," Dean says, "but Bela and I broke up."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam chimes in now. "You proposed to her, though. You would've married her without ever telling her."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eileen nods. "Exactly. So why is this time different?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean thinks for a moment, not yet willing to tell them they're probably right. He stares at his hands. This conversation isn't going exactly how he expected. He thought that when he brought up the topic of "<em>I want to tell my sort-of boyfriend about monsters</em>" that they'd spend more time on the "<em>sort-of boyfriend</em>" part. Sam and Eileen barely blinked at that and immediately started asking questions about the "<em>tell him about monster</em>s" part. He's not entirely sure what to make of it, but he'll think about that later. Right now, a few days after making it clear to Cas that he wants to be with him, Dean needs to focus on how to tell Cas his secret. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I didn't think Bela could handle it. I thought she'd leave me," Dean answers quietly after a lengthy silence. "But I don't know how Cas will react. Maybe he would stay."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eileen looks at him with sad eyes. "Dean… even if Cas can handle it, do you want him to? Knowing what's out there… it's a burden. If you tell him and he does decide to leave you… you're leaving him with that knowledge and leaving him unprotected. He'll be scared." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I showed up on his doorstep covered in blood. He's already scared." His voice wavers slightly, giving away that he knows there's more to it than that. Eileen's right; he knows she is. "I just… he knows that I'm keeping something from him. He has the right to know and he says he wants to know. It's just… he has no idea what he's asking me to tell him." He buries his head in his hands. He stays like that, breathing slowly until he realizes it's been quiet for too long. He peeks out from between his fingers and sees Eileen and Sam quickly signing to each other. He huffs out a breath. He taps in the middle of the table a few times to get their attention. "Are you guys talking about me?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam looks over to him, guilty. "We're just worried about you. We want you to be happy, of course, we do, we're just worried that if this goes bad…" Sam trails off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We're worried that you'll go through the same downward spiral you did after Bela," Eileen finishes for him. Sam looks to her gratefully. "We don't want you to get hurt. And I know we've never met Cas, but we're worried about him too."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean groans. "Okay, so imagine I decide not to tell him everything. What would I even say? That it's too dangerous for him to know my secret? Because that's not ominous and totally won't send him running for the hills." He rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Isn't it worth him running for the hills if he's safe?" Eileen says softly, reaching over to grab one of Dean's hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was so sure he wanted to tell Cas when he started this conversation, but now his head is filled with doubt. He doesn't know what to do anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's never been jealous of his brother falling in love with another hunter until now. Eileen knew everything from the start. Hell, they met on a hunt. He remembers Sam calling him almost five years ago and telling him he met someone. She almost stabbed him because she thought he was a banshee, but as far as most of their friends are concerned, their meet-cute involved Eileen spilling hot coffee all over Sam. It was close enough to the truth. Sam had hearts in his eyes when he talked about her from the beginning. They were engaged within a year. Their wedding had been remarkably normal for two hunters, though it did end in a trip to a tattoo parlor to tattoo on their wedding bands. Dean knew it was mostly a practicality so that they wouldn't lose their rings on a hunt, but now it reminds him that they were never in the situation Dean is now. Sam and Eileen have the same deepest, darkest secret. They never had to do this part.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's broken out of his thoughts when Eileen snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Dean? Where'd you go?" she asks. She and Sam have the same look of concern on their faces. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean shakes his head. "Nowhere. I just… wish this was easier. Like it was for you guys." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam and Eileen exchange a look and burst into laughter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" Sam says, clearly trying to stifle the laughter, "Eileen almost killed me. It wasn't easy for us." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, hunting with this guy is way worse than hunting alone because I have to make sure his clumsy ass doesn't get hurt." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles at that. "Don't I know it," he says, thinking back to hunting with Sam in their younger days, right after his little brother left Stanford. He doesn't necessarily miss it, but maybe he's feeling a twinge of nostalgia. He loves his brother and they had fun together, other than all the near death experiences. "Fine, maybe it wasn't easy. But you never had to make this decision either. You knew this shit from the start and neither of you had to be scared of the other finding out."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam's face turns serious suddenly. "Listen, Dean, you can do what you want," he says carefully, "I'm just saying to think hard about it before you do anything. Remember Cassie?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How could he forget Cassie? Cassie, who he loved. Cassie, who never spoke to him again after he told her about what's really out there. The memory still stings. "Cassie didn't believe me, Sam. She didn't leave me because she was scared. She left me because she thought I was insane." He pauses a moment before realization dawns on him. "Oh." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Right," Sam says, "I just want you to consider all the possibilities."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Dean says with a sigh. "God, why did I have to go to his house fucking covered in blood? I could've put off this decision longer."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That would've just made it worse," Eileen says softly. "You clearly already care about him. A lot." Dean blushes. "Listen, Dean. I would normally tell you not to bother telling him since you're retired and I know I've been leaning towards you not telling him… But if you're going to stay with him and you're going to pick up a hunt every now and then…" Dean winces. She's on a roll tonight. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're right," he agrees. "I… either need to leave him or tell him." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sam and Eileen give him that identical sad look again. "If you decide to tell him and he doesn't want to stay…" Sam begins slowly, not meeting Dean's eye. Dean just stares at him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Give him Sam's number, or mine," Eileen finishes. "If he believes you and he can't be with you… just let him know that we can keep him safe if anything ever comes for him, okay?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean nods and feels a tear fall down his cheek. He hadn't realized his eyes were even wet. "I'm… going to tell him." Maybe it's selfish to tell him instead of leaving him, but he doesn't want to lose Cas. He has a feeling Cas doesn't want to lose him either, though, so it would be just as selfish to leave him with no explanation. So two selfish options… he might as well go with the one that gives him a shot at being happy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, now that that's decided," Sam says, clapping his hands loudly, "Dinner? I'm thinking pizza."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles and nods. Sam and Eileen start bickering about toppings while Dean pulls out his phone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&lt;&lt;To: Cas<br/>I'm ready to talk about it if you're ready to hear it. Can I come over after dinner?</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt;&gt;From: Cas<br/>Of course, Dean. I'm home all night. Let me know when you're on your way?</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&lt;&lt;To: Cas<br/>I will. I'm at Sam's so I'm not sure how long I'll be. </em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt;&gt;From: Cas<br/>Tell Sam and Eileen hello for me :)</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles. He thinks that they just might be able to make it through this. He's not sure if the fluttering in his stomach is nerves or hope. Because he really cares about Cas, but he's terrified that this is the last time things will be alright between them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has no idea that across town someone is watching Cas through his window. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt;&gt;From: Dean<br/>On my way, I'll be there soon.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles a little as he rereads the message. Maybe he shouldn't, maybe he should be scared because he has no idea what Dean is going to tell him. But he's eager and hopeful to get through this because he really feels like whatever is coming, knowing is the only way for him and Dean to really be happy. No more secrets. He hopes that it's something he's willing to put up with. But with the state Dean showed up the other night… he just doesn't know. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas is still smiling at his phone when he hears a knock at his door. His face straightens out, and he looks at the time stamp on the text message again. It's from five minutes ago, but Sam lives closer to fifteen minutes away. Maybe Dean texted from a stoplight. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets up and opens the door. Dean's standing there, looking calm and confident, almost cocky. This isn't the version of Dean he was expecting to see tonight. He still seemed nervous and unsure in his texts. Plus, there was the way Dean acted when he said he needed more time the last time they saw each other. Even though Dean said he was ready to talk, Cas assumed that Dean would still be uncomfortable with having this conversation. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hi, Castiel," Dean says, "May I come in?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something is wrong, but Cas opens the door wider anyway. "Of course," Cas says. He smiles, but he doesn't think it reaches his eyes. He can't put his finger on it, but the whole interaction isn't sitting right. "You're ready to talk?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Talk? What did you want to talk about?" Dean asks casually as he strolls into the apartment. He stops and looks around, hands on his hips like he's seeing the room for the first time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I… what? You had something to tell me," Cas says slowly, confused. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, right. I must have forgotten," he says, turning around to smile at Cas. It makes Cas uneasy. "You were expecting me?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes… I got your text. You got here faster than I expected though."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh. How much longer did you think I'd be?" Dean asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas looks at him, eyes squinting and head tilted. "Um," he says, glancing at his watch, "I thought you'd be maybe another ten minutes at this point, I guess."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Perfect, then we better get this show on the road," he says, smiling more widely now. It's all wrong. He's almost sneering. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Dean has crossed the room toward him. His fist is lifted and Cas no longer recognizes the person in front of him as the man he thought he knew. "Dean, you're scaring—" He's cut off when there's a sharp pain at the side of his head and his vision goes dark. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean frowns, lifting his hand to knock on Cas's door again. He knows that he told Cas he was on his way, and Cas had said he'd be home all night. He's a little worried, but Cas probably just ran to the bathroom or something. No need to panic yet. He knocks again and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the door unlocking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The relief is immediately gone when he sees himself on the other side of the door and he's on the defensive. There's nothing more unsettling than being face to face with your own, well, face. What the hell is going on? He knows he killed that shapeshifter; there's not a doubt in his mind. It couldn't have survived. It's impossible. But there's not a lot of things that could steal his face like that, so he's pretty sure he's looking at a shifter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's hand goes to the pocketknife he keeps in his back pocket. Maybe he's not as well equipped as he was in his hunting days, but a silver pocketknife has always been a given. Some habits die hard. These days, the most action it gets is cutting through tape on packages, but it's big enough to cause some major damage if need be. He quietly flips the blade out, but doesn't pull it out from behind his back yet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He glances over the shifter's shoulder, eyes going wide. "What the fuck did you do to him?" Dean says, shoving into the apartment when he spots Cas tied to a chair. He's unconscious, but Dean keeps his distance. He doesn't want to make any sudden moves that would put Cas at risk even though his body is screaming at him to go to his side. Dean tears his eyes away from Cas, shifting his gaze back to the shifter, who is watching them both carefully. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The shifter smiles. "A little payback," he says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How the hell aren't you dead? I killed you days ago!"Dean angles his body protectively in front of Cas. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No," he says back, smile gone and replaced with an angry glare. "You killed my brother." He spits out the words, the venom clear in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fuck. Two shifters? How the hell did he miss that? Since when do those things travel in packs? "Why the hell are you here?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Like I said. Payback," he says, taking a step forward. Dean takes a step back, closer to Cas. "You kill my brother, I kill someone important to you. But I wanted you to watch."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Wouldn't the logical solution be to attack my brother then?" Dean asks, shifting slightly to get into a better attack position while he has the shifter talking. Plus, sue him, he wants to know why the thing didn't come after Sam. Eileen would've killed it before it even got close to him. He doesn't know exactly what's coming, but he knows that Sam and Eileen would've been way better equipped to deal with it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That was the original plan, but I know who you are now, Dean Winchester. Going after your brother did not seem wise," the shifter says with a twisted grin. Dean shudders to see the look on this imitation of his own face "This seemed like it would be more fun. I don't know who exactly this man is to you, but I think I'll enjoy torturing him in front of you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Like hell you will," Dean says, pulling out the knife from behind his back. He lunges at the shapeshifter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's head is throbbing. He tries to lift his hands to rub at his skull, but he can't move them. He opens his eyes slowly, trying to figure out what is going on. He blinks a few times as the room comes into focus and his memories flood back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean knocked him unconscious. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks around for Dean, terrified. His vision is messed up though because he's seeing double. He can see two Deans across the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he can't be seeing double because the Deans are wearing different things. And they're fighting. One of them is holding a knife.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can't tell if his vision is still blurry or if he just can't process what he's seeing. Because this is insane. He's having a psychotic break or… or… what? He's dreaming. Maybe he dreamed Dean attacking him too. He must have dreamed that because Dean would never do that to him. Right?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He closes his eyes tight, unable to watch what's happening in front of him and willing himself to wake up. But closing his eyes doesn't stop the sounds of what's happening from entering his ears. Heavy thumps as punches land, grunts of pain, one particularly loud cracking sound that Castiel absolutely does not think about. At this point, the pain in his own head is too strong to be imagined, he knows that much. Somehow, this is real.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's so focused on keeping his eyes closed that he doesn't notice right away when the sounds stop. He opens his eyes and looks at the horrible scene in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One Dean is knelt over the other, pulling a knife out of his chest. There's blood everywhere, on the floor, on the knife, on their hands. Castiel knows he's wide eyed in horror. The Dean who had the knife in his chest isn't moving. Judging by the blood, he's dead. Judging by the clothes, the dead one is the one that attacked him. The one who wasn't acting like Dean.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The alive Dean looks up and catches Cas's eye, and Castiel sees his own horror reflected there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Cas," he says. It comes out scratchy. Castiel can't help but look at the line of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. Dean stands slowly, making a show of putting the knife on the ground, and holding his hands in front of him. He approaches slowly. Castiel curls into himself as much as he can when he's tied in place. "I'm going to untie you, okay?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel doesn't trust his voice. He can feel the wetness in his eyes. He nods weakly. What the hell is happening? Dean disappears behind him, and Castiel winces when he feels his hands working to free him. As soon as he feels his restraints loosen, he pulls his hands free and stands, whipping around to face Dean while backing farther away from him. Dean looks small, eyes wide. It's the most scared he's ever seen him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What the fuck is going on, Dean?" he all but yells. He's proud of himself for keeping his voice from shaking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean winces. "Cas…" he says, voice breaking, "I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen to you. I was coming here to tell you the truth, but I never… I didn't know… fuck, this isn't how you were supposed to find out." He's rambling, wringing his hands and staring at the floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What the hell are you talking about, Dean?" he says. He's angry, and he knows it sounds like it, but he's still terrified. He continues backing toward the door while he waits for Dean to respond. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean lets out a sigh and looks up to Cas. "I… hunt monsters, Cas. Werewolves, vampires, demons… They're all real. That was a shapeshifter, which is why it… looked like me. That's where I was, I was killing a shapeshifter. But I haven't hunted in years, and I fucked up. I thought it was just one, but it was two, and it came here to get back at me for killing its brother." Tears are streaming down his face now, mixing with the blood. Castiel is frozen in place. "I am so sorry, Cas. I'm so sorry." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel blinks at him, his brain not fully processing what he's hearing. He's almost inclined to believe him, but only because he can't think of a single alternative that makes sense. Not that this makes any sense. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But it does explain why the Dean that showed up earlier didn't feel like <em>his</em> Dean. The scared Dean in front of him now? He doesn't feel like an imposter. This is his Dean, as terrified as he looks. He just knows it. He's covered in blood, his eyes are wide, he's crying openly now, but he's still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean…" Cas says slowly, not even sure where he's going with it. "I… what?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know, I owe you more of an explanation than that. I just…" he trails off when his throat makes a choking sound. "Listen… I haven't done this in a long time. I… please don't go. But I need to call Sam and get him over here to help. He's… better at this." He gestures vaguely toward the body laying in Cas's living room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas gapes at him, but nods, not fully understanding what he's agreeing to. Dean pulls out his phone and dials, and Cas feels like he's listening from underwater as he speaks. He picks up a few words like <em>shifter</em> and <em>pocketknife </em>and <em>help </em>before Dean eventually hangs up. He looks back to Castiel. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did it hurt you? Fuck, of course it hurt you, you were unconscious when I got here. Here, sit down, I'll get you some water."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas is in a daze, but listens and settles down onto his couch. He doesn't have the energy to protest. Dean shows up a minute later with a glass of water and a few painkillers. Castiel takes them without looking up at Dean. Dean doesn't sit down with him, instead hovering a few feet away. They stay there in complete silence until there's a soft knock at the door. Castiel looks up in time to see Dean open the door, and a very tall man and a tiny woman come in. This must be Sam and Eileen. This isn't how Castiel imagined meeting Dean's family. He never could have imagined this.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean says a few low words to them that Castiel can't hear. He looks away, looking into his now empty glass. He feels the couch dip next to him and looks up to see Eileen there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hi, Cas," she says. "I'm Eileen. You've been through a lot. If you want, you can stay with me and Sam tonight. If you don't want to be alone."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I…" he says, trailing off again because his thoughts won't settle down to form a coherent single thought. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You don't need to make any decisions now. Can I take you to your bedroom? Sam and Dean are going to clean up out here, and I don't think you need to see that." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel nods slowly, allowing Eileen to pull him up off the couch and lead him to his room. When they walk in, she wraps him in a tight hug. He tenses at first, but then relaxes into it. When they break apart, she sits him down on the side of the bed. It's at this point when the dam holding back his tears finally breaks. He lets the heavy sobs out while his body shakes. Eileen puts her arms back around him and comforts him until he can breathe again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. made for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean walks into Cas's apartment and leans against the front door. He lets his head fall back, slamming it into the door harder than he meant it to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fuck. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a deep breath and steels himself to talk to Cas. He crosses the room and knocks gently on the door to the bedroom, before opening it and peeking inside. Cas and Eileen are sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed, her arm wrapped around him. Cas is looking down at his hands. Eileen is looking right at Dean. He can't read the look on her face. It's some mixture of softness and concern and love that makes Dean squirm. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Can we… can we have a minute?" he asks Eileen, signing the words slowly as he speaks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eileen nudges Cas until he looks up at her. She raises an eyebrow and he gives her a small nod. "I'll be right outside," she says to Cas, before squeezing by Dean and out of the room. She closes the door behind her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Can we talk, Cas?" Dean asks. His voice is more breathless than he wants it to be. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Eileen told me everything," Cas says quietly, "or at least what I <em>hope</em> was everything." He looks up at Dean finally, and Dean winces when he sees his red-rimmed eyes. He's been crying.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm so sorry, Cas." He sits down at the edge of the bed, but keeps as far away from Cas as possible. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This is what you were going to tell me?" Cas asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"More or less," Dean says with a shrug. Cas looks unimpressed. Dean deflates a little. "Yes. I didn't intend to give you a demonstration though." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas nods. "You cleaned up the blood this time," he says as he reaches up to gently touch Dean's cheek, before letting his hand drop back into his own lap. His voice is irritatingly calm. It's unnerving because Dean knows he's anything but calm right now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I didn't want to make things worse. Your living room is clean too. It looks like nothing ever happened out there." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you." He sounds like he means it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Listen," Dean says, running a hand through his hair, "I understand if you don't have the energy to do this right now, so just tell me to leave if you need me to and I'll go…"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You want to know if this changes how I feel about you," Cas says. It's not a question, but Dean feels like he has to answer anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I do, but Cas, really, you don't have to have this conversation now. I'll go and you can have as much time as you need. Hell, if you want me out of here forever, I'll go. Eileen can check in on you if you ever—"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dean," Cas interrupts firmly, "I never said I wanted you to go." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's eyes open wider. "Oh," he says, "you—"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This doesn't change how I feel about you," Cas says, and a wave of relief rushes through Dean. "But… but this is a lot to process." Dean winces. He knew this was coming. He braces himself for the rejection. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I understand, Cas," Dean says, averting his eyes so that Cas hopefully doesn't see how wet they suddenly are. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But I don't want to process this alone," Cas says. Dean feels a warm pressure on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas's hand resting there. "Maybe it's selfish, but I need you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You need me for…" Dean says, surprise and confusion forcing him to trail off, unsure of where he's going with this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, for starters, I need you to keep me safe because I'm absolutely terrified. But like I said, this doesn't change how I feel about you. I know now anyway, and I know you were going to tell me, so I don't see any reason why this should change things between us." Cas smiles. It's weak and doesn't quite meet his eyes, but Dean can tell it's genuine. "I still want this. I still want you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean lets out a sob that was stuck in his throat. "Cas," he says, voice breaking. He puts his hand on top of where Cas's is still resting on his shoulder. He doesn't know what else to say, but it doesn't seem to matter. Cas scoots a little closer and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean wraps him up tightly in return and rests their foreheads against each other. He's honestly not even sure who's comforting who at this point, but Cas is there and warm and <em>alive</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As soon as it fully registers that Cas could have died tonight, he really does lose it. He lets the tears fall and clings to Cas. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's not sure how long they've been sitting there when there's a soft knock at the door. Dean looks up at Cas, who's already moving to stand. He opens the door and Eileen pokes her head in. Dean walks over to join them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, I just wanted to make sure everyone's okay," Eileen says, a sad smile on her face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks, Eileen. For everything. I think Dean and I are going to be okay here tonight if you want to leave."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eileen smiles wider and pulls him into a hug. "I'll let Sam know to come get me." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He shouldn't be too long. He was just going to the— he'll be back soon," Dean replies. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eileen nods in understanding. "Thanks, Dean." She grabs Dean for a hug now too and kisses him on the cheek. "I'll let you get back to him. I don't think his has a concussion, but keep an eye on him tonight." Dean gives her a small, appreciative nod. She closes the door, leaving Dean and Cas alone again. Dean hears the front door swing shut.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You want me to stay?" Dean asks as he turns to Cas. He feels both hopeful and nervous. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, I certainly don't want to be alone," Cas says, rolling his eyes a little. It's weird to see when his eyes are still so sad. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Would you rather come to my place? If you don't want to… you know, be here," Dean says, shifting uncomfortably. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Is it safe here?" Cas asks. The fear is creeping back into his voice now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, yeah, we're safe. It's gone and, uh, Sam brought me some… I have things to keep you safe if something goes wrong. Which it shouldn't." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas nods slowly. "This is going to take some getting used to."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know, Cas," Dean says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Eileen said you've been doing this a long time. Why?" Cas asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's how I was raised. A demon killed my mom when I was four. My dad loaded Sam and me into the Impala right after and started hunting. Eventually, he tracked down the demon that got her, but we just kept going after that. It sort of became the family business, in a way."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But then you stopped? Eileen said you were… 'retired'?" He sounds unsure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah. It's been around eight years, I think. I was on the bench for an injury for over a year, and just… didn't get back in the game. I didn't want to do it anymore. And I never needed to until last week. But a monster needed killing and all the other hunters in the area were busy, including Sam and Eileen. I didn't want to go, but people were dying and there was something I could do about it."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You wanted to save people," Cas says softly, realization showing on his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I did. That's the best part of the job." The tears in Dean's eyes threaten to overflow again. "But I'm rusty and I fucked up and you almost got killed for it." He pulls Cas in tight. "I will never let that happen to you again." </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's spent the night in Cas's bed before. It's not entirely new. But every other time it's happened, he was waking up there. This time he stayed up all night, arms wrapped protectively around Cas, not letting his guard down for a second. Luckily, it was a quiet night. He knew Sam and Eileen were looking into the case again to make sure that Dean hadn't missed anything else. For now, though, it seems as if the danger is gone. Now, Dean can focus on his relationship with Cas.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He already knew that he wanted to be with Cas before everything had happened, but now… now it's different. Not only does he know this is what he wants, but he's not afraid of it anymore. He knows now that he needs Cas in his life. He would do anything to keep him safe. The fierce protectiveness he's feeling right now tells him without a doubt that he's in love. It's too soon, but he doesn't care. He's not scared. He doesn't know for sure that Cas feels exactly how he does, but he's pretty sure he's at least heading in that direction. If the look in Cas's eyes last night as he was falling asleep was any indication… Cas is falling in love too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas wiggling in his arms pulls him out of his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Mmph," Cas grunts against Dean's chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean chuckles, but releases his grip a little so that Cas can peel his face off of Dean's bare chest. "What was that, buddy?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I said, let me out," Cas grumbles, but makes no move to get any farther away than he already is.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sure you did," Dean teases, kissing him on the top of his messy hair. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas looks at him and squints his eyes a little in focus. "You're here. That means all of that wasn't a nightmare." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean frowns. "No. Not a nightmare," he says quietly. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas glares. "If it wasn't a nightmare, that means the fifty apologies I heard were also real, which means it's time for you to stop. I'm fine, see?" He wiggles his hand out from where it's trapped to gesture at himself. "Not a scratch on me." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's not true," Dean murmurs, brushing his fingers lightly across the hair on top of Cas's bruised skull. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, you got me there," Cas says with a smirk, "but I came out better than you. Maybe I should be the monster hunter."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Making jokes about this already? I thought we were at least a week out from that."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm using humor as a defense mechanism," he says, shrugging as much as he can from within Dean's arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles and leans in to kiss him on the nose. "You use whatever you need to. But seriously, anytime you need to talk about it, tell me. Or Sam. Or Eileen. We're all going to be here for you, I promise. Don't keep it bottled up." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And I thought I was the therapist," Cas says, giving a signature eye roll. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You are, but as the king of bottling shit up, I'm entitled to give this advice." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles at him, a big gummy smile that melts Dean's heart. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and frowns when a sound comes from the living room. His eyes widen when he hears the front door bang closed loudly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean is halfway to the door already when someone yells "Cassie!" from the other side of the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Fuck, it's my brother," Cas mutters, just loudly enough for Dean to hear it. He relaxes and sits back on the bed. "I forgot we were having brunch today. He must have texted…" Cas leans over to grab his phone, grunting in disapproval when he grabs it. "Forgot to plug it in."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At that moment, Cas's brother slams open the bedroom door. "Dude, are you dead? I've called you like ten times. I had to fucking parallel park, you know how bad I am at—" he cuts himself off when his eyes fall onto Dean, face breaking into a wide grin, "Who's this?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas sighs. "Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this is Gabriel." He gestures vaguely between them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nice to meet you, Gabe," Dean says, nodding at him. He would stand to shake his hand, but he is suddenly very aware of the fact that he's shirtless. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Back at ya, Dean-o. Heard a lot about you, and judging by what I just walked into, looks like you finally got your head out of your ass!" Gabriel chuckles at himself, and then stops abruptly. He squints and tilts his head, and Dean can finally see the resemblance to Cas. They don't look alike, but they have identical facial expressions when it comes to confusion. "What the fuck happened to you?" Dean looks down and grimaces. There's a huge purple bruise forming over his ribs that looks like someone kicked him, which is probably because someone kicked him. There's enough of his skin that's still its normal color that he can see how Gabriel didn't notice at first, but a large portion of his chest shows clear signs of a fight. He's sure his face looks similar. He probably looks pretty bad all around, especially considering that the bruising from his previous shapeshifter encounter hasn't fully healed yet. The bruises aren't as obvious now that they're faded to more yellow than purple, but they're still fairly prominent. Honestly, he is a little surprised that Gabriel didn't notice something was wrong sooner. Although, Dean knows that Cas hasn't dated in a while and that Gabriel is overly invested in his sex life. So maybe it's expected that Gabriel would notice <em>shirtless</em> before he noticed <em>bruised</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean catches the panicked look in Cas's eyes and hopes Gabriel doesn't see it. He steps in and gives his long-practiced explanation for looking like he got in a fight. "Got mugged on my way over last night. Fought the guy off eventually, but he got a few good hits in."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Christ, dude. You must be a hell of a fighter to fight off someone that did <em>that</em> to you," Gabriel says, wide-eyed. "Uh, well, don't let me interrupt." He backs up a few steps.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Don't be silly, Gabriel," Cas says. Dean looks over and sees that he's recovered from his previous panic. "We had plans, we can get brunch." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, man, don't let me get in the way. I'll just get dressed, then I'll be out of your hair."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nuh uh," Gabriel says, shaking his head, "if we're going out, you're coming with us. Gotta get to know you and make sure you're good enough for my baby bro." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas groans, but says, "He's not going to let it go, Dean, so it's best to humor him." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean laughs. "Let's do it."</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It has been the strangest day of Castiel's life. Twenty four hours ago, he was tied to a chair, watching Dean fight a shapeshifting monster and thinking he was going to die. He's never been so scared in his life. But then again, twenty four hours ago he couldn't call Dean his boyfriend. Now, he can. Now, he's curled up on Dean's couch with his head in Dean's lap. He pinches himself again to make sure he's not asleep.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're awake, dude," Dean says. His voice is doing that thing where he pretends to sound irritated, but all that comes out is fondness. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I know," Cas says, not bothering to lift his head. "It's just been a weird day."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're telling me," Dean replies with a chuckle. He runs his fingers through Cas's hair, carefully avoiding the tender spot on the side of his head. Dean's voice is softer now when he speaks. "I'm glad you're okay. Don't know what I would've done if you weren't."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles. "So you've said. I'm right here. You kept me safe," he says, continuing on quickly when he can tell Dean is about to protest, "I don't care how the danger got to me. Either way, you kept me safe." Dean is silent, so Cas rotates to look at him. He's surprised to see tears in the man's eyes. "Dean? What is it?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm just… happy. Happy to be here with you, happy you're okay, happy that we get to be together now that I've gotten over my shit. Just… really happy." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm happy too, Dean," Cas says with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He nods. "Of course, Dean."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean smiles. His mouth doesn't move much, but he can see how happy he is by the creases around his eyes. "Cas…" Dean says softly, "I— I love you. I'm in love with you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas's eyes go wide for a moment, surprised to hear Dean say it. "You are?" he asks because his brain won't let him come up with anything else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I am," Dean says, still smiling slightly, "you don't have to say it back or anything… I just wanted you to know. I'm not trying to scare you off or—"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop," he says firmly. "I love you too."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The giant grin that bursts across Dean's face might be even better than hearing the words. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas pushes himself up so he's sitting next to Dean now and looks at him carefully. His face is still bruised and a little puffy. It looks pretty bad, but Cas can still see Dean underneath. "Would it hurt you if I kissed you now?" Cas asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Maybe, but it'd hurt me more if you didn't kiss me," Dean says with a smirk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas chuckles and leans in to kiss Dean gently. At first, it's just a soft press, but it quickly becomes more urgent. Dean grips Cas tightly and pulls him into his lap. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Dean pulls away slightly to bring his mouth to Cas's ear. "You know," he says breathily, "you're not going to break me if you put your hands on me."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You're injured, Dean," Cas says seriously, "I just wanted to kiss you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hmm," Dean hums, grasping Cas's hips tighter, "we'll see about that." And with that, he flips Cas over onto his back. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're almost at the end, guys! The last chapter should be up in a few days! <br/>This chapter is dedicated to my spn group chat pals because we always send each other weird gifs of gummy bears when we read the phrase "gummy smile" in a fic 🥰</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. real thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel pats at his pocket for the hundredth time tonight until his hand finds the square shaped lump. He breathes a sigh of relief when he feels it still there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been worried initially that it was too soon. He and Dean have only been officially together for a year, but things are so perfect that he doesn't want to wait anymore. It's the same reason they moved in together after only six months. He always heard people say "<em>when you know, you know</em>" and he thought it was ridiculous, but as it turns out, it's true. The same way he just had a feeling his old relationships were wrong, he knows this one with Dean is right. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He loves Dean. He's loved him a lot longer than a year, and he wants to spend forever with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows that Dean is a little apprehensive about being the one to get down on one knee this time. Between Dean's history of being told no, and his own history of saying no, Cas doesn't blame him for it. They've talked about it, so Cas knows Dean is still interested in marriage. But he also knows that Dean isn't going to be the one to ask. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It's been a whirlwind of a year. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn't entirely surprised at Dean's insistence that he learn some self defense, but he was surprised by what that entailed. Cas is pretty sure that normal self defense classes don't involve shotguns filled with rock salt or knives made out of pure silver or anti-possession tattoos. The whole monster thing still isn't something he's exactly gotten used to, but Dean hasn't gone out hunting in the last year. Castiel is grateful for that. Now that he knows what it would be like out there for Dean… he wouldn't be able to handle it. It's bad enough that he has to worry about Sam and Eileen when they leave town for a hunt. He worries about them the entire time they're gone, to the point where Dean has stopped mentioning it to him unless absolutely necessary. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's loved getting to know Dean's family over the last year. Dean is cared for by so many people, and it makes Cas's heart sing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel has always known that Dean loves his brother more than anything. Within a week of knowing Sam, Castiel knew that Sam loves Dean just as much. Dean had told Castiel that he had a tough childhood early in their friendship, but he obviously didn't learn the details until later. Dean grew up fighting battles for his father and protecting his little brother. He became a hunter before he ever had the chance to be a kid. Now that Cas knows about how Sam and Dean grew up, he understands why they're so close. Dean was basically a father to Sam his entire life. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel knows that he never would have stood a chance with Dean if Sam didn't approve, so he's glad it never came to that. In fact, Sam was the first person he told when he decided to propose. Sam hugged Castiel so hard that he couldn't breathe. He didn't let go until his wife pulled him away so that she could give Castiel her own bone-crushing hug. Apparently, a lifetime of hunting made her much stronger than her tiny frame would suggest. Cas bonded with Eileen that first night they met, and he already considers her his best friend. He can't wait to call her his sister, too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's best friend, Charlie, accepted Castiel immediately, a fact that Castiel is thankful for. He had only met her one time before their relationship was official, but she still shrieked out, "Finally!" when Dean and Castiel showed up at her door holding hands. She told Castiel that she could tell they were in love with each other that first day from the dopey, lovesick looks on their faces. Dean had blushed a dark shade of red and tried to get her to shut up. It was that same evening that Castiel realized that Charlie was more like family to Dean than a friend.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ring in Castiel's pocket belongs to Bobby Singer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bobby is a tough man to read. Cas wasn't sure if he had Bobby's approval until last week when he stopped by to tell him he was going to propose, but his reaction said it all. Bobby isn't Dean's dad, but Cas still wanted his blessing. Bobby didn't say yes, but he did pull Castiel into a tight hug and mutter, "Thanks for taking care of my boy," in his ear. Castiel immediately let out the breath he'd been holding. What he didn't expect was for Bobby to then walk out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a ring box in his hand and tears in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"This is my wedding band. My Karen bought this for me and I wore it for years after I lost her. I used to catch Dean looking at it when he was real little," he said, speaking in a soft voice that Castiel had never heard from him. Bobby brushed his fingers over the silver band, a tiny design engraved along the edge. "Now I don't expect you to keep this cheap thing on his finger for forever, you can get him something as expensive as you like for the wedding, but if you wanted to use this to propose… I'm just saying it might mean something to him." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel hadn't even been able to get any words out, crying too hard over the display of love for Dean and the acceptance of their relationship. All he could do was nod and hold his hand out to accept the box. All Bobby wants is for Dean to be happy; that much is clear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He thought that buying a ring would be difficult. Dean's relationship with his own father was too complicated for Cas to ever feel like proposing with a ring of his would be a good idea. The only ring he had of his mother's was the one he used to propose to Bela, and Dean had given that to Sam and Eileen for their last anniversary anyway, so it wasn't an option. He didn't have a wedding ring in his own family he could use. So he had resigned himself to a store-bought ring, even though he wanted something with more history and sentimentality for Dean. Proposing with Bobby's ring… Cas knew the moment he saw it that it was perfect.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a relief to be accepted by Dean's family so readily, but Castiel's family accepted Dean just as easily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things between Dean and Gabriel were a bit rocky at the start, so Castiel never could have predicted Dean's friendship with Gabriel. Once Gabriel stopped looking at Dean with skepticism, though, everything changed. It warms his heart that Dean actually considers his brother a friend and wants to spend time with him alone. Cas has come home from work on more than one occasion to find Dean and Gabriel in the kitchen covered in flour and surrounded by pies, or passed out on the couch together blanketed in cupcake wrappers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Castiel's mother loves Dean. Cas was a little nervous about them meeting because Amara Novak is a loud, intense presence, but he didn't need to worry. She'd taken to Dean immediately. She flew in from Reno to see their new house and started flirting incessantly with Dean the moment they were introduced, which wasn't unusual for her. Dean had turned his charm all the way up, and it was clearly making a good impression on his free-spirited mother. She pulled Castiel aside later that evening to tell him not to let this one go. Castiel promised that he wouldn't.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somehow he'd even gained the approval of Dean's ex-girlfriend, Bela. Dean wasn't back in touch with her, but they ran into her again at their coffee shop a few months ago. When Dean spotted her from their table, he actually smiled at her across the room and went over to say hi, pulling Cas along with him. They greeted each other warmly, Dean introduced Cas as his boyfriend, and Bela told Dean that he looked the happiest she'd ever seen him. Cas couldn't get out of his head how drastically different this exchange had been from the last time they ran into each other. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The screeching sound of a chair being pulled out shocks Cas back to the present. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Dude, this place is weirdly fancy. You've gotta check out the bathroom before we go," Dean says excitedly. It's true. This restaurant isn't really their scene, but they wanted tonight to be special. And it's hard for it not to feel special when Dean is looking radiant in a well-fitted suit, sitting across the table from Castiel with hearts in his eyes. They have a lot of anniversaries they could celebrate: the night they met, the second night they met, their first coffee date, their first sleepover, the first time they kissed… But they decided that the anniversary that mattered most was the first time they said <em>I love you</em>. So now, a year later, they're celebrating the happiest memory of Castiel's life so far. Hopefully, they'll be celebrating an even happier moment by the end of the night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas laughs. "You're a child," he says fondly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Whatever, you love me," Dean says, waving him off. "You order dessert while I was gone?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, but I just told them to surprise us since you said you'd eat anything on the menu." Technically, he had asked their waitress to bring them something special to celebrate the proposal, plus champagne, but he doesn't specify that to Dean now. The waitress had giggled and promised to wait until he got a 'yes' to come back. Now, Castiel can see her and the rest of the wait staff gathered against the bar staring at their table in anticipation. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's eyes light up a little. "Fun! A surprise! We should do that more often." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles at him, but then feels his heart racing faster when he realizes that dessert means the end of the meal and the end of the meal means he's running out of time to propose. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You okay, man? You don't look so good," Dean says, concern clear on his face as he reaches out to grasp Cas's hand that's resting on the table. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, I'm fine. I just wanted to… say something to you." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, sure. Spill," Dean says, looking slightly confused, but there's a warm smile on his face. A smile that's always been reserved for Cas.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a deep breath. "Dean, I love you. I love all of you, every single part of you. You have completely changed my life and I wouldn't want to go back to how things were before I met you. You make everything so much better and brighter and I just… I want to be with you forever." Cas pauses to give himself a chance to pull the box out of his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Cas…" Dean says softly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cas smiles and rises from his chair, immediately dropping to one knee next to Dean. He opens up the box and can see the exact moment that Dean recognizes the ring nestled inside, given away by the wide, wet look in his eyes. "Dean Winchester, marry me?" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dean's smiling widely now, and Cas catches the glint of a tear running down his cheek. "Really?" Dean says, voice breathy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Really. Marry me, Dean. I never want to be without you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes!" Dean says loudly, reaching down to yank Cas up by his suit jacket to eye level. "Yes," he says again as he crashes their lips together. When they break apart, foreheads resting together, he says again more quietly, almost a whisper, "yes."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading! I can't tell you how much every new comment/kudos/subscriber/bookmark has meant to me. This is the longest thing I've ever written and I had so much fun with it. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear from you! 🥰</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I have a few other things in the works right now, so <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_wet_cas_eyes/pseuds/big_wet_cas_eyes">subscribe to my ao3</a> or <a href="https://big-wet-cas-eyes.tumblr.com/">follow me on tumblr</a> if you'd like to keep up with what comes next. If you enjoyed it and wanted to <a href="https://big-wet-cas-eyes.tumblr.com/post/647447524063543296/champagne-problems-bigwetcaseyes">share this fic on tumblr</a>, I will love you forever.</span>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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